


On the Nature of Love and Chirality

by Shadow_Side



Series: Chiralityverse [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Threesome, M/M, Multi, Strexcorp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 85,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1708196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Side/pseuds/Shadow_Side
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos moves to Night Vale and finds himself slowly falling in love with Cecil. There's just one problem: Carlos' ex…</p><p>…Kevin.</p><p>But then Strexcorp comes to town. Then <i>Kevin</i> comes to town. And if the battle for Night Vale looks set to be difficult, it will be nothing compared to the battle for the heart of its favourite scientist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Thermodynamic Arrow of Time

**Author's Note:**

> This… I would like to blame this on my Kevin muse. I really would. I tried, too, but it turned out – for once – that it wasn't him. Oh no. This one is Carlos' fault, and it's probably best not to ask.
> 
> Warnings for: Smut. Angst. Trauma. Violence. If you've read my other NV stuff, you might be a bit taken aback by this one. If you've read my other _non_ -NV stuff… probably not so much. ;-)
> 
> Non-existent time-wise, this one covers quite a lot. It takes Episodes 1 to 42 as canon and diverges after that, though includes additional points of canon from future episodes (44 in particular. You know what I'm talking about!) It also takes the live show _Condos_ as canon, though not _The Debate_ , because by the time that one was released, I'd already done my own second meeting between Cecil and Kevin.
> 
> I started writing this back in March – right before Episode 43 aired – hence why I chose to diverge there, and have been having ever-increasing emotional breakdowns as this fic continued to mirror canon despite my attempts to AU it! I have, however, completely avoided including the Mayoral Election, given that we all know canon _is_ going that way.
> 
> For anyone who's interested in me rambling about my process, I'll put in a few author's notes at the end of chapters… which probably makes this a good time for me to stop talking for now! ;-)
> 
> EDIT: Now with awesome new banner art by Davechicken!
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

**The Thermodynamic Arrow of Time**

_The only physical evidence for the existence of time is entropy; that is, chaos._

***

This is not where it all begins.

Nor, indeed, is it where it all ends. The closest approximation of what this is would be to say that it is both the beginning of where it ends, and the end of where it begins. And this includes leaving aside the unreality of time, because that isn't a factor yet; although – given the unreality of time – it _is_ a factor, because if time isn't real, then nor is the concept of 'yet'.

Right now… whatever 'now' means… there is only this: only a room, in a house, in a town. The room is dark, save for the low lights on each side of the bed, setting the desired mood without going so far as to plunge the space into inoperable blackness. In the centre of the bed, a scientist named Carlos lies on his back, his lover on top of him, inside him; slowly but expertly bringing them both towards physical and emotional ecstasy.

The other man leans in, kissing along Carlos' jaw at the same time as taking hold of both of his hands, pressing them down into the pillows either side of his head. The mere act alone sends a thrill of anticipation running through Carlos, making him arch back a little, baring his throat to a fresh onslaught of kisses that only make the need and the ever-increasing bliss feel all the more _wonderful_ , sparking off every last nerve-ending until his mind feels like it's going to overload.

"Are you close?" his lover says, right into his ear, and _oh_ but the man's voice just drags Carlos ever-onwards towards the edge.

" _Yes_ ," Carlos manages. "Yes. Please. Please don't stop."

"How could I ever deny you?" the other man murmurs, his voice like liquid sex; sunrise and starlight and fire. "Just… do one thing for me."

" _Anything_."

"Say my name when you come. Scream it to the rafters. There's nothing better in all the world…"

Carlos smiles hazily up at his lover, nodding rather more than he needs to, so close now that he can hardly think, can hardly _see_ , and it's as though the whole fabric of the universe is unravelling; tumbling to the floor in the room around them, falling away until there's nothing left but this: this moment, this contact, this connection that is more than anything. More than _everything_.

And then it breaks. It shatters, in a moment of perfect, perfect bliss that blazes out into completion, into incoherent delight, glorious and wonderful. And amidst it all, even though organised thought is beyond him, Carlos manages to scream his lover's name in gratitude and happiness, just as he promised; a name that has – somehow – become his whole world in just a few short months.

" _Kevin!_ "

***

It's early the next morning.

Carlos is already up, wrapped in a dressing gown and standing at the window in Kevin's bedroom, peering out through the gap in the curtains.

"…You can open them, you know," comes a voice from the direction of the bed. "That way we can both watch the sunrise."

Carlos glances back for a second. "I didn't want to wake you."

But he accepts the offer, pulling the curtains apart enough that he can look out properly; look out at the strangest town he's ever seen in all his life.

Desert Bluffs.

Behind him, he hears Kevin rising to his feet, pulling on his own dressing gown before pacing over. His lover steps in behind him, wrapping both arms around his waist and laying a soft kiss on the curve of his neck.

"Well, good morning," Kevin whispers.

"Hey," Carlos breathes, pressing back against him. Just… enjoying the contact, whilst he can.

He doesn't think he's ever going to get used to this view, whether he's looking at it from here or from the little window in his own rented apartment. Desert Bluffs is… an acquired taste, and it's one that Carlos is not sure he could have acquired without help. If truth be told… it freaks him out a lot, even after several months of living here, and he's not at all confident he could have learned to cope with all the blood and viscera and other things that just _completely_ defy repetition were it not for Kevin; Kevin, with his way of breezing through it all like it's completely normal, of pushing past the sheer insanity and threat of the place to find the good things underneath. The warmth. The community spirit.

The… love.

They've been dating for almost as long as he's lived here – having met when Kevin interviewed Carlos for a piece on his radio show after Carlos first moved to Desert Bluffs in order to study it – and… Carlos wonders where it's all going. Is it love? The other man makes him feel more alive, more _happy_ than he has in years, and somehow manages to help Carlos see beyond the threatening insanity of the town.

He'd been sceptical about coming here, after all. Very, very sceptical. But it was for _science_ , and sometimes you have to take huge risks for science.

And sometimes… those risks pay off.

"It still freaks me out," he remarks, headtilting out the window at Desert Bluffs, which lies bathed in the red glow of dawn; the first fingertips of light glittering on the blood that lines each exterior surface, in clear defiance of every scientific law governing blood beyond the colour and the texture.

"I know," Kevin replies, kissing his neck again. "But you're getting better at it. You seem to have stopped having the dreams."

"Yeah," Carlos agrees. "I could do without those."

"I know. Although… it was kinda cute, the way I sometimes used to wake up to find you clinging to me."

"…Less fun when I was alone in my own apartment, though."

"Ah, so _that's_ why you're here practically every night now…"

"…You know why I'm here practically every night now…" Carlos murmurs, a flicker of nervous embarrassment in his voice.

"Sure I do," Kevin replies, brightly. "Because of that thing I can do that makes you scream my name like it's the only word in your vocabulary."

" _Besides_ that," Carlos says, though he's blushing rather a lot and it helps that he doesn't have to look Kevin in the eyes.

"I know," Kevin says, softer again. "And I'm glad you are. Because I think… I think I love you."

He's never said it before, not out loud. Carlos has never said it either, though he's thought about it and wondered… and perhaps he's been pushing towards this point, silently daring the other man to say it first so he'd know for sure. But somehow, hearing it makes him realise he should have said something weeks ago.

"…I think I love you too."

Kevin holds onto him tighter at that, and Carlos feels a rush of euphoria that completely transcends the physical. It isn't about the contact – though that's very enjoyable too – and it isn't about the lingering memories of last night. No. This… is deeper than both of those. More. This is how he can stay in a place that's so unsettling and so… threatening, at least on the outside. Because… because underneath… it's something else. Something different. Something… good?

Yes. Something very good.

"I… ah… should probably go shower," Carlos manages, still a little nervous. "I have lots of science to be getting to and… and…"

He trails off as Kevin's hand slips under his dressing gown and starts stroking over his chest, idly circling a nipple with a single fingertip. "…You don't have to go straight away, do you?" he murmurs in Carlos' ear, in that tone which almost makes Carlos' knees buckle.

No. Carlos does not have to go straight away.

In fact, Carlos does not have to go for quite a while.

***

The point at which things go horribly wrong can often be hard to spot, even long after the fact.

Not in this case. In this case it's clear as day, though not at first.

It starts, as so many things do, with an unexpected story on the radio. Carlos has it on in the lab when he's working – he always does – and he's used to items popping up that make him stop and stare at the radio itself, blinking at it in confusion as if the inanimate object somehow held an explanation for whatever oddity is being related.

It never does – OK, apart from that one occasion when all the electricity turned sentient – but that doesn't stop him. It's pretty much a reflex action now, and one he finds himself performing on a regular basis. Yes, small-town America can be very quirky at times – especially if you're more used to big cities – but even so, Desert Bluffs is… in a class of its own.

This particular day, Carlos is midway through disassembling a clock – because he's absolutely _sure_ there's something wrong with time in this town – and listening to his boyfriend's regular broadcast. The words are drifting through his mind, warm and comforting, so he feels slightly jarred when he hears the sound of a door opening in the broadcast booth, and someone handing something to Kevin.

 _"Oh… some breaking news, listeners,"_ Kevin says, the sudden shift in his voice making it clear he's surprised. _"I have just received word from our beloved local mega-conglomerate, Strexcorp Synernists Inc, that –"_

Ah, Strexcorp. On the one hand, Carlos is more than a little unnerved by the company. By their incessantly cheery PR and oddly sinister edge that he can't quite pin down. But, on the other hand, they're at the heart of Desert Bluffs' economy, and responsible for a borderline-zero unemployment rate in the town… and that really is an impressive business model.

 _"– they have today been informed of an impending hostile takeover bid by Nietzsche Futures PLC. This news came from out of the blue – especially considering what happened during the last attempted takeover bid Strexcorp faced back in 2003 – and a Strex spokesperson, giving a hastily-arranged press conference on the front steps of their HQ building, announced moments ago:_ "We do not know why any other company would attempt to move in on our territory, given our reputation, though we suspect it is due to our unbeaten business model and groundbreaking programme of urban regeneration. Nevertheless, Strexcorp does not stand for takeover bids – hostile or otherwise – and we are immediately calling on all our staff – both directly and indirectly employed – to take action. Nietzsche Futures' takeover teams are expected to arrive in Desert Bluffs within the hour and we cannot – we will not – allow them to succeed." _So there you have it, folks. If you're on Strexcorp's books – and, let's face it, who in town isn't? – you should immediately make your way to your designated clocking-in point and prepare to defend your employers – and your town – from this unwelcome and unacceptable attempt on our tranquil way of life. And so, as we all move towards this unexpected addition to our day, I give you… the weather."_

Very odd. Carlos is used to hearing news about Strexcorp on the radio – and not just because Kevin thinks they're absolutely wonderful – but this is the first time he's heard them try to… to what? _Mobilise_ people? What are they all going to do, stand around a boardroom table somewhere and glower whilst negotiations take place?

Carlos picks up his phone to call Kevin and ask, but then thinks better of it. It's just business stuff of some kind, and whilst Carlos is able to recognise that it's important to some, to him it's just a distraction from _science_.

Besides. He's sure Kevin will tell him all about it tonight.

***

Carlos has always had a tendency to get very engrossed in his work. Sometimes he can be at it for hours and only snap out of his scientific reverie when someone else intervenes and points out that maybe he should try subsisting on something other than coffee. Or that he should maybe sleep in a bed, rather than slumped over his latest collection of notes.

This particular afternoon – long after the thoughts of Strexcorp's business activities have drifted into the back of his mind – is a prime example. The light is starting to fade when a noise in the distance makes Carlos look up and glance at the clock on the wall. If it can be trusted – and he's not at all sure it can – it's after six, and it's only now that he realises he's heard nothing from Kevin.

It's then that he processes the noise in the distance that caught his attention in the first place, as he hears it again: a low, sonorous rumble followed by… was that a scream?

Oh. What's going on?

Feeling a sudden stab of shock, Carlos leaps to his feet and hurries out of his lab, into the little apartment connected to it, and through to open the front door.

Beyond… is a scene from a nightmare. In the light of the low sun, Desert Bluffs glitters blood-red, though with far more blood than usual. Smoke is rising in the distance, along with flashes of fire, and – now he's outside – Carlos can hear even more screaming. As he watches, a man comes running along the debris-strewn street; a man in a black suit, with a bright sky-blue tie. He's running flat-out, absolute terror writ large across his face and following along behind him are two men in black suits with bright orange ties.

Strexcorp enforcers.

It's at this point that – despite all logic and common sense – Carlos is struck by the possibility that the term 'hostile takeover' might be quite literal in this case. The blue-tied man – who he assumes must be from Nietzsche Futures PLC – stumbles all of a sudden and sprawls to the floor. As he does, the two orange-tied Strex men close in on him, pulling out shiny silver blades and…

Carlos hurries back inside, pushing the door shut and leaning on it in mind-blanking horror.

He's just seen… he's… just…

Kevin. Where is Kevin? If this insanity is going on all over the town, then his boyfriend might be…

Panic hits and Carlos pulls out his phone, but he's got no signal. Whatever's happening, it's clearly affecting the telecommunications, because Desert Bluffs usually has _excellent_ signal. He decides to risk going outside again, in the hopes that maybe he might be able to pick up at least a couple of bars, though has to pause first, taking several deep and steadying breaths.

And then he steps out. The street is silent now, and the two orange-tied men have gone. The blue-tied man is still there, though… lying prone with blood all over his back.

He isn't moving. On a logical level, Carlos processes that this is because the man is dead… but his mind can't fully engage with it.

He has to focus. Has to find Kevin. He looks at his phone but there's still no signal, and the panic gets worse because… because if this is happening all over town, then Kevin could be…

Don't think it. Don't think it. Maybe he should go out looking, or… oh, maybe he's got a signal-booster tucked away somewhere that might…

And that's when Carlos sees movement in the smoky haze further down the street: movement that resolves into several figures walking closer. For a second, he's sure he needs to run… but then he realises that the person at the head of the group is Kevin. The others are people – men and women alike – wearing the standard black suit and orange tie combination typical of the Strex business team, just like the two other men Carlos saw moments ago. As they get closer, Kevin waves them off, heading towards the apartment building… and slowing when he realises that Carlos is standing outside, staring over at him in horror.

It's hard not to. And it isn't because Carlos has just watched Kevin emerge from the chaos with a team of blood-streaked Strex personnel at his back as if they were _following_ him. No. It's because of the way Kevin himself looks: half-drenched in blood that – from the way he's moving easily – can't be his own, hair tousled, eyes alight with pleasure. At his side he's holding a bright silver knife – with a short hilt and a long, narrow blade – though he sheathes it as he gets closer, seeming almost guilty.

All Carlos can do is keep staring, frozen to the spot, feeling as though the whole world has just collapsed on his head.

"…Kevin?" he manages, voice high-pitched and laden with terror and disbelief. "Kevin… what have you..?"

But he can't go on. Kevin reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder and Carlos instinctively backs away, though it's the only movement he's capable of.

Kevin looks a little surprised. "What is it?" he asks. "Are you all right? I figured you'd be safe this far out… the takeover operation was heaviest in the town centre."

"You… I…" Carlos tries again, but the sentences still won't actualise.

This is worse than the nightmares. At least the nightmares were predominately abstract.

Before he can try to get words out again, there's heavy footsteps from further down the street and another figure appears through the haze… a figure that is clearly not human. For the first few seconds Carlos can only stare, as the creature stalks closer. It's alarmingly tall – maybe eight feet?! – and built like a very well-muscled humanoid man, only with a lot more spikes. Great, bat-like wings erupt from its back, and it wears only a black loincloth and thick metal boots, though every inch of its visible skin is drenched in blood. A sweeping pair of horns frame its head, which is set with vivid red eyes, and matches the red-eyed skull set into the pommel of its massive, spiked sword.

Carlos screams. Kevin manages to grab his arm before he can dart back into the building, though Carlos tries to push him off without even thinking about it.

"What _is_ that thing?!" he exclaims.

Incredibly, Kevin turns and looks at the creature as if only just noticing it. " _There_ you are!" he calls. "Could you maybe keep up?"

"Sorry," the creature replies, in a voice that seems to be resonant with the accumulated agonies of a thousand tormented souls. "I spotted one of their accounting teams a couple of blocks back. Couldn't resist."

Kevin grins. "Oh, you," he says, offhand, and then looks back at Carlos. "Sorry, where are my manners? Carlos, this is Azatothoth."

"Aza… what?"

"Azatothoth. Merciless Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty, Seventeenth Adjunct to the Fourth Infernal Plane."

Carlos is still frozen to the spot. "He's a… a…"

"He's a demon," says Kevin, calmly. "My demon."

"Your… demon…"

"Yes! Well, it's a time-share arrangement. He's soul-bound to… how many is it now?"

"Over two hundred beings or entities across four planes of existence," Azatothoth chips in, resting his sword on his shoulder and looking not entirely in favour of the idea of idle conversation.

"But… where did he..?" Carlos now tries.

"Oh, I summoned him," Kevin answers. "I told you I could do that."

"I thought you were _joking!_ "

"About demon-summoning? Carlos, that's hardly something to _joke_ about…"

"Look," Azatothoth cuts in, "you two obviously need to have a little talk, and I haven't killed anything in at least ninety seconds, so I'm going to wander over to the park at the end of the street where I can _clearly_ see three people hiding in the bushes and keep myself occupied until you're all done."

"Sure thing," Kevin replies. "See if you can get them to tell you where they've put the general ledgers. I know the middle-managers are still looking for some of those."

"Will do," Azatothoth says, and stalks off. There's some distant shrieking as he gets closer to his new targets, though Carlos is now too distracted to notice.

He's still staring at Kevin. "…You're covered in blood." These are the words he's been trying to get out for most of this – for want of a better word – conversation, though they don't feel any less awful once given voice.

"Yeah," Kevin replies. "Hostile takeover. Company called Nietzsche Futures PLC came to town and –"

"…I know," Carlos interrupts. "I heard your broadcast. Kevin, hostile takeovers happen in boardrooms. Deeply boring people with deeply boring spreadsheets debate them, an imperceptibly large quantity of money moves about electronically, and life carries on as normal."

"Uh… not round here," Kevin points out. "Here… hostile takeovers are a bit more… you know. Hands-on."

The hysterical edge is getting harder to hide. "You're covered in blood!" Carlos repeats.

Kevin shrugs. "That's pretty standard. And I am pretty high up the non-executive side of things, so I was right in at the deep end. Had to summon Azzie almost at once and–"

"…Azzie?!"

"Azzie. Azatothoth." Kevin gestures almost idly down the street where, in the distance, the eight-foot demon is chasing a shrieking man with what looks suspiciously like a detached leg in his other hand.

"…You call that _creature_ … 'Azzie'?!"

Kevin shrugs again, looking remarkably blasé about the whole situation. "Sure I do, at least informally. Not in front of our superiors, of course."

Carlos stares for a long moment, fighting not to hyperventilate. _"…You're covered in blood!"_ he manages, for a third time, as if hoping he might eventually get a response that makes things better, not worse.

"Yeah. It isn't mine, though, so don't worry."

"How can you be so _calm_ about this?!"

Beneath the hysteria, Carlos' mind is starting to process just how calm Kevin really _is_ about all this, and on an immediate level that's bad enough because of how _un_ calm Carlos needs him to be. But on a deeper level… it is infinitely more terrifying.

He's covered in someone else's blood and he's _calm_.

"Seriously, Carlos, I'm fine," Kevin insists – evidently processing the hysteria as concern for his well-being – and he tries to put a hand on Carlos' shoulder again. Tries to pull him in.

Carlos pushes him off, firmer this time, which makes Kevin stare at him in surprise, as if he's finally realising what's really going on. "Carlos… what is it?" he asks softly.

"You… this… all of this," Carlos replies, backing off further with his hands held up defensively. "You're wandering around drenched in _blood_ and you don't seem to care!"

"Of course I care!" Kevin insists. "It was a hostile takeover! Do you know how dangerous those are? I was defending my employers, my town, my… I was defending _you_."

"Me?!" Carlos exclaims, eyes wide with fresh horror. "Don't make this about me!"

"But… how could it not be? You're my… my… Carlos, I _love_ you."

The words sting like xylene on an open wound, and Carlos feels as though his knees are going to give way. Just this morning… just this morning those words were everything. They were sunlight, rapture, bliss and perfection.

Now… now they terrify him. Now they're coming from the lips of a man drenched in blood, a man with an apparently well-used blade sheathed at his back.

A man Carlos thought he knew.

"…Don't," he gasps. Pleads. "Just… don't. I can't."

"Carlos," Kevin says, reaching for him once again, "let's just go inside a moment and talk about this and…"

"No," Carlos manages. "No."

***

It's later that night, and Carlos is driving as fast as he dares along the darkened highway. In the rear-view mirror, he can see the distant lights of Desert Bluffs, fading further and further as he races away. There's a hastily-packed bag on the seat beside him, but that was all he had time for. All he could manage before everything became too much and he had to get out.

His phone starts to ring again, and he pulls over, parking by the roadside and looking at the screen.

It's Kevin. Kevin, obviously trying once more to talk him into coming back.

But he can't. He can't ever go back.

Carlos collapses against the steering wheel, emotion finally getting the better of him, breaking through every mental wall and leaving him suddenly sobbing, terrified and empty and soul-crushingly _alone_.

Eventually, once the wave of horror has finally died down, Carlos makes himself pause. Makes himself rub a hand over his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Then he pulls the SIM card from his phone, throws the card out the window, and disappears off into the night.


	2. The Observer Effect

**The Observer Effect**

_The act of observation changes the subject being observed._

***

It's eight months later. More specifically, it's May 2012, which is a reassuring thing to think because it means time is probably working. Time seems to work much better out in the _normal_ world, and that's something Carlos reminds himself of on a regular basis. Just… just because.

Since leaving Desert Bluffs, he's been living in San Francisco. He likes San Francisco. It's big, it's cosmopolitan, and it has plenty of trees and water. All things that are nothing like Desert Bluffs. It also – certain sporting occasions aside – isn't drenched in blood, and that's even better than the trees and water and cosmopolitan lifestyle combined.

Finding employment isn't the easiest thing in the world when you're a scientist, but he's done his best and is at least managing a modest upkeep, teaching at a local community college whilst writing financed research papers on the side. It could be better though, and he's started looking further afield again. Anywhere, really. Anywhere that's nothing like Desert Bluffs.

It's late one evening, and he's just settled down with a mug of coffee and his collection of _Breaking Bad_ DVDs (Season Five starts in a few months, so he's trying to re-watch it all in preparation) when there's a knock at the door.

Odd. He isn't expecting anyone. He hits pause – midway through Walt and Jesse having another of those oh-so-lovely moments – and gets up, heading into the hall to see who it is.

As he opens the door, Carlos is surprised to find an old friend on the step: a fellow scientist named Toby, who he went to college with. His roommate in first year, in fact – at least until Toby got together with Arlene, who he's been living with ever since.

"Whoa," Carlos breathes. "Toby, what are you doing here?"

"Tracking you down," the other man says. "Can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." Carlos waves him inside. "Can I get you anything?"

"No thanks, I'm good. I need to talk to you though."

Toby has always been a fairly edgy man at heart, so to have him turn up like this, out of the blue, is more than a little weird. Carlos leads him back through to the living room, gesturing to the couch, though Toby doesn't sit down.

"How did you even find me?" he asks.

"It wasn't easy," Toby replies. "You don't write, you don't call, you shutdown your Facebook page… Carlos, I was freaking out a bit."

"I'm fine," Carlos lies. "Seriously. I just… needed to get away from it all. So how _did_ you find me?"

"It took a while," Toby tells him. "Eventually, I spotted you on the website for the college where you're working now."

"They've got me up on there? Oh, I'll have to do something about that…"

"Look, seriously, what is going on with you? You're acting like you're on the run or something."

"No, no… I'm just… I'm just starting over."

"Last I heard, you were moving to Desert Bluffs." Toby's expression turns suddenly cautious. "You… ah… how did that go?"

"Not good," is all Carlos will say. "It went… it went not good. So now I'm here. And here is better."

"I… I see." Now Toby does sit, dropping onto the nearest couch with an odd expression on his face. "I… look. The reason I tracked you down… OK. I tracked you down 'cause you disappeared and I was worried. But I also tracked you down because I sort of have a job offer for you."

"A job offer?" Carlos repeats, surprised. "Where are you even based now?"

"Me? Oh, I went back home. To Night Vale."

Carlos' chest aches suddenly. "Night Vale? That's… that's the next town over from Desert Bluffs."

"I know. I live there, remember?"

"But… it's _the next town over from Desert Bluffs_. I can't ever go back there, Toby. I _can't_."

Maybe the horror in his eyes is all too obvious. Maybe… Toby just understands. "Night Vale is not Desert Bluffs, Carlos. Trust me. Whatever happened… and I won't ask… but whatever happened, it won't happen in Night Vale. You'd be safe there. Well. As much as any of us are safe anywhere, of course."

Carlos is not convinced. And he's going to say no. Of course he is. He's not going back to that part of the country ever again. But… he should at least hear the man out.

"What's the job?" he asks.

"Scientific team leader," Toby tells him. "There's a whole bunch of us in Night Vale – fully-funded – doing research into all kinds of things. Time, seismology, the nature of reality… it's _so_ interesting. Night Vale _is_ the most scientifically-interesting community in America. Plus, the team is pretty much autonomous, and I know you prefer to work that way. And our last team leader, he… uh… won the lottery, so we're on the lookout for a new one."

"Team leader?" Carlos repeats. "So, what? You're headhunting me to be your boss?"

"Heck, yes," Toby replies. "We need someone sensible. Someone who can control the team."

"Why not go for it yourself?"

"Oh, I am _not_ good at that organisational stuff, you know that. But you… I remember working with you back at college. You were perfect. You could balance all the different opinions and inputs and still come out on top with a decent graph. And this… Carlos, you'd love it. We've got such a diverse team and so much scope and…" He stares up; big, dark eyes wide and imploring. "Please? I want to work for someone who's sane for once."

"…I'm not even going to ask," Carlos mutters. "It… Toby, it all sounds very promising, and you know I'd love to work with you again, but… Night Vale? It's too close to Desert Bluffs. I can't go back there. I can't."

Toby looks crestfallen. "OK," he says, rising to his feet once more. "I… I figured as much, but I had to ask. I… er… I should be going."

"You could stay, if you like."

"No… no, I… don't want to intrude."

And off he goes.

When he's alone again, Carlos stands and stares at the front door. His own team. His own scientific team. With funding. And autonomy.

It's… everything he's dreamed of.

It's also Night Vale. Which is next to Desert Bluffs.

But… it _isn't_ Desert Bluffs.

Carlos stands. He thinks. And then he makes the snap-decision that is going to change his life forever.

"Toby!" he calls, tugging the door open and racing out into the street. "Toby… wait!"

***

Another month passes. Preparations are made – mental, emotional and technical alike – and that's how Carlos finds himself standing in the hot desert sun, watching a pair of removal men carrying boxes into his new apartment.

He's renting for now, but the little building seems nice enough, and it's only one lot along from a very promising-looking pizza place.

The sun beats down. It's… somewhat triggery. But the surfaces aren't drenched in blood, and the Strexcorp emblem isn't emblazoned on every building, and those are both massive plus-points.

The street itself is pretty quiet, but there are a few people around and Carlos knows they're scoping him out. That's understandable. He's the new guy in a small town, and the locals tend to notice that sort of thing. Heck, right back when he moved to Des–…

…OK, no, don't think about it. Seriously, don't think about it.

He lets the removal men do all the heavy lifting and carrying – that's what he's paying them for, after all – but once everything is inside, he tells them to leave him to it. This part – the setting-up part – he'd much rather do himself.

Priorities being what they are, he starts on his new lab first. The apartment has some sort of garage conversion connected to it which is just perfect – it's why he chose the place – and it isn't long before he's organising workbenches and unpacking glassware, idly humming to himself and…

…oh but that just isn't tuneful at all.

Deciding he'd better come up with an alternative, he manages to locate his radio in one of the boxes, finds somewhere to plug it in, and clicks it on. He hasn't used it in months – having not had decent lab space of his own over in San Francisco – so it immediately jumps to a local frequency.

For a second, he worries it might be able to pick up the transmissions from Desert Bluffs, but thankfully, as the sound resolves, it's not a voice he recognises, and within a moment he's caught some reference to Night Vale. Carlos supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Lots of small towns have their own local stations and Night Vale is likely no exception, and…

…the guy on the radio seems to be talking about a dog park. That in itself isn't strange. No. The strange part is that the dog park in question appears to be entirely off-limits and…

…wait, hooded _what_?

Carlos shakes his head. Trust him to have managed to move to somewhere else weird. Even so, it still looks normal compared to Desert Bluffs, and that's the main thing.

Now, where did he put those beakers..?

He's on his knees under one of the benches, poking around in a cardboard box, when he catches the next story that the guy on the radio has moved to, and he's so taken aback that he tries to stand up all at once, cracking his head on the underside of the bench in surprise. Staggering upright, rubbing his forehead, Carlos stares at the radio, once more daring it to explain itself.

The man on the radio is talking about _him_.

Oh, this is not good. Not good at all. This is not how you stay off the radar! And now, the guy – whatever his name is – is making Carlos sound so mysterious and… and interesting, and…

Not good. Something is going to have to be done. Something to make people see that Carlos is just as boring and normal and uninteresting as can be. Something that will make sure they pay him no more mind and leave him to get on with his science.

But how can he do that? If he draws more attention to himself, that will defeat the objective. Although… oh. There's always the time-honoured tradition of bombarding people with so _much_ science that they can't take it anymore, and lose interest, and go off to talk about something else like the weather, or television, or baking or something.

Hmmm.

Well. Maybe what Carlos needs is to introduce himself. Then the good people of Night Vale will see he's not interesting after all…

***

It takes a surprisingly small amount of time to arrange a town meeting. _Surprisingly_ small. Carlos heads over to City Hall to sort it out, and is somewhat taken aback when the woman at the front desk tells him he can do it at 4pm.

"4pm?" he repeats. "What day?"

She arches a brow at him. "Today, of course."

"Isn't that a bit… you know? Short notice?"

"Oh, don't you worry about that," the woman replies. "People will be there."

And she's right. As he makes the preparations in the side-hall he's been allocated, Carlos can't quite believe how many people are turning up. They file into the room, making polite conversation as they take their seats, and he's not at all sure what to make of this. Some of them even seem to have brought snacks, which they're sharing with the other attendees.

Plus there's the fact that, every now and then… Carlos catches a familiar face in the crowd. It makes no sense, because he's never been to Night Vale before, but… maybe they're people Toby knows. People who might have been in photographs he has, or something.

Yes, that's got to be it.

As the hall fills up, Carlos realises that several of the people who've come along seem to be members of the press. A tall, imposing woman with a notebook in one hand is hovering at the side of the room, talking away furiously on her cellphone and glancing over at him every now and then. Carlos can't hear everything she's saying, but he definitely catches the words 'insurance' and 'no idea what caused that explosion' and decides maybe this is something not meant for him to know.

As the clock on the wall reaches 4pm, Carlos makes his way to the front podium to address the rather large crowd that's gathered. They're all watching him with rapt interest, quickly quietening – and taking their seats if they were still standing – as he steps up.

And he starts to talk. He starts to tell them why he's come to town. That Night Vale is – apparently – the most scientifically-interesting community in America, and that he's going to be leading the local scientists in their efforts. He moves on to explain some of the things they're planning to study, in as much detail as possible, knowing that this is the point at which people's eyes glaze over and they suddenly remember something else they need to be doing.

It's as he's midway through explaining the finer points of seismology that Carlos really becomes aware of how rapt everyone still is. Even the scary-looking woman who'd been on the phone before is staring up at him like every word he says somehow reveals another mystery of the universe.

This is not going according to plan!

Still talking, Carlos starts trying to work out how he can shift things to a point where even these strange people won't want to keep up with him. Perhaps he should move onto quantum theory, but deliberately omit to explain it using string. People can _never_ keep up if you don't include the string, although – to be fair – they…

And that's when he sees. Carlos is not usually one for public speaking, and he's been trying to keep calm by not looking at the crowd too much: skimming his eyes over them, but no more. But now, something makes him really _look_ ; look at the faces staring up at him. And as he does, Carlos realises something that sends a stab of terror right to his core, making him falter momentarily before he keeps going, trying to hide the reaction.

But it's hard not to… because there, sitting in the front row… is Kevin.

It's him. It has to be him. Carlos has no idea what the man is doing here but it can't be good, and for a second he has to fight the urge to make a run for it.

What is he doing here? _Why_ is he here? Is he about to make some attempt to win Carlos back, or… or something worse?

Flashes of memory cross Carlos' mind: smoke rising in the distance, and blood-streaked figures walking through the haze, with Kevin at their head, and…

No. No. Don't think it. Don't give in.

 _Focus on science_.

So he does. Somehow, Carlos keeps talking right to the end. He's vaguely aware that the assembled crowd is still hanging on his every word, but it's harder to think about now when he's got a far more immediate concern. As he concludes, the crowd applauds, and then a couple of the reporters – because there really are quite a lot of them – ask follow-up questions.

Why are they so interested? It's nice, but it isn't normal.

And then – the meeting over – everyone starts to file out. They take their time over it, pausing to chat to people they know, and making sure to give a wide berth to… wait, who are those guys in the back? They look like government agents! Well… no, they look like people _trying_ to look like government agents, right down to the sunglasses and conspicuous earpieces.

…This place is seriously weird.

Carlos doesn't have time to stop and think about it too much, though. He needs to make a run for it. He needs to make a run for it before…

There's a hand on his shoulder, and he turns in shock, well-aware that the reaction and the emotion is writ large on his face as he does.

It's Kevin. Carlos suddenly feels like his knees are going to give way.

"Uh… could I maybe get a quote?" the other man asks.

His voice is completely different. _Completely_ different. But not only different, it's familiar, and Carlos feels a little of the terror blend to surprise as he realises that _this_ is the guy from the radio. What's more… there's other, subtle things about him that Carlos has only just noticed, such as how his eyes aren't like Kevin's, or the fact he's wearing colours that Kevin would never go for, and…

…Carlos realises he's staring. The man in front of him is nigh-on identical to Kevin… but he isn't Kevin. And Carlos is sure his… his ex would have told him if he had a twin.

So, what? There's two of them? He's somehow managed to find Kevin's doppelganger?

_In the next town over?!_

This is not normal. This is not normal at all.

"…Are you OK?" the man who isn't Kevin now asks, on account of the fact that Carlos has just been staring at him in silence for several seconds.

"Uh… yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Carlos flat-out lies. "Nice to meet you. I'm Carlos."

The other man gives a little grin. "You said," he points out, giving a subtle headtilt up to the podium where Carlos has been giving his talk. "I'm Cecil. So… could I get that quote? For… ah…"

He looks weirdly distracted too, and Carlos finds himself wondering why.

"…Yes, yes, uh…"

He can't think. Of all the people in the world to discover a doppelganger for, why does it have to be Kevin?

"…you know, it's very dangerous out there," Carlos explains. "Eight fatality units above normal. You should be careful, you know, because… because of that. Uh… I have to go. Like, now. Because of the danger thing. I… goodbye…"

And Carlos all but runs out the door, without even stopping to wait for a reply or a reaction. He leaps in his car and drives back to his new apartment without pausing to think, and…

…seriously, what is going on?!

It's just as he's trying to work this out, frantically pacing up and down his living room, that his phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Carlos, it's Toby. You need to get down to the seismic monitoring station right away!"

"…We have a seismic monitoring station?" Carlos repeats in surprise.

"Oh, yes, you're going to love it. I'll send you the co-ordinates for your satnav. But, seriously, you need to get over here. We just picked up another one."

"Another what?"

"Another earthquake! This one was nine-point-four!"

Carlos lowers the phone for a moment and stares at it, before lifting it again in order to reply. "…Toby, if there had just been a magnitude nine-point-four earthquake, half of this town would be in ruins."

"I know!" Toby says. "This happens a lot. Big earthquakes that no one can feel. I told you you'd never be bored here!"

It's starting to look like Night Vale is going to earn its moniker of 'most scientifically-interesting community in America'.

Carlos just wishes it didn't also have to include a doppelganger of his ex. Who also does community radio. And…

…OK, wait, so they live in adjacent towns and both do the same job?

Oh, this is not normal. This is not normal at _all_.

***

Acclimatising to Night Vale is quite different from acclimatising to Desert Bluffs. Acclimatising to Desert Bluffs requires, amongst other things, a strong stomach and extremely good facial muscles, on account of all the smiling. Night Vale, on the other hand, seems to require a complete and unquestioning acceptance of the bizarre.

The earthquakes are a big start. The earthquakes that register quite clearly on the equipment down in the – admittedly impressive – seismic monitoring station. Carlos sits and stares at them for a long time, and then takes a number of the detectors apart to find out what's wrong with them, but they're working just fine. Everything is as it should be, albeit with massive earthquakes happening – on a fairly regular basis – that no one can feel.

Then there's the clocks. If the clocks over in Desert Bluffs had been weird, then the clocks here in Night Vale are just… insane. The more Carlos starts to look into it – late into the night, over and over – the more he's forced to conclude that time just doesn't work properly here. It _seems_ like it does, at least until you stop to pay attention to it, which is when you realise that the sun is setting at the wrong time, or that some of the afternoons last at least a couple of days.

And speaking of the sun, Carlos is particularly taken aback the day it doesn't rise at all. No one else seems fazed by this, aside from a small campaign group called Sun-A-Day, whose sole aim seems to be to get it made _illegal_ for the sun not to rise at least once per day, as if someone in the town itself had some level of control over it.

Sometimes… it's best just not to think about it. It's best to focus on science and try not to think too hard about how intensely _weird_ this whole place is.

And then… well…

…then there's the guy on the radio.

After the initial press conference – after running into the man who isn't Kevin – it's quite a while before Carlos dares turning the radio back on. He knows, now, that the other man… Cecil, right? …isn't Kevin, but they still look borderline identical and it's… really, really difficult. Especially because whenever the scientists have to make an announcement about something – which it seems to be customary for them to do a lot – Cecil is always there. And that's _fine_ of course, because he's a reporter and it's his job, but…

…but it's really, really difficult all the same.

Still. After a few weeks, Carlos decides he's going to have to get used to it, so one evening he decides to risk turning the radio back on. It does help him think, and he's got a lot on his mind – what with that house that _doesn't exist_ – and so he _needs_ to think even more than usual.

And it's good to keep up with what's going on in the community. He does live here, after all. He clicks the radio on just in time to catch Cecil's show going live, and wow, he really doesn't sound anything like Kevin, but all the same, his voice has such a similar…

…no, no, stop thinking about it. Science. Science now.

Carlos goes back to what he's doing, the radio on in the background, and… wait, they're trying to build a drawbridge out of _what_?! Do they even know how construction works? And, more to the point, why do they need a drawbridge in the middle of a _desert_? Night Vale doesn't have a river. A lake. A coastal inlet. It doesn't have any bodies of water beyond the occasional swimming pool and that pond over in Mission Grove Park with all the warning signs about why you _really_ shouldn't feed the ducks.

…Oh, he's never going to get his head around how this place works.

Carlos wonders if the radio will help with that. If knowing more about the oddities of this town will help him make sense of them. Maybe it will. So… he should keep listening.

For science.

***

But that's when it starts to get weirder. The more Carlos listens to Cecil's show, the more he realises that Cecil talks about him a lot. To a certain extent, this would make sense – if he's reporting on scientific developments in the town, which he seems particularly fond of doing – but it's more than that.

And it isn't hard to see… well, to _hear_ why. Cecil isn't exactly subtle about it.

Carlos tries to stay in denial about it for as long as possible, but the fact of the matter is… Cecil has a massive crush on him. And on a scientific level, Carlos finds this very interesting, because what does it say that both Cecil and Kevin think about him that way? But on an _un_ scientific level, it is weird. It is _scary_.

Carlos suspects this means he should stop listening to the man's show every single day.

But he doesn't.

But… it's for _science_. And… and community involvement. And…

…oh this is all so wrong.

What also doesn't help is that, whenever they happen to meet for some reason, Cecil is always really nice to him, and goes sort of… sweetly awkward. Nothing else seems to faze the guy. Carlos has heard him report on things that any sane person would be horrified by – that he himself is _regularly_ horrified by – and yet Cecil seems to breeze through it all without any indication he finds it odd or alarming or threatening or reality-breakingly _in_ sane in any way.

And yet, whenever he runs into Carlos, it's like Cecil forgets how to string together coherent sentences.

It's sort of ador–… no… no, stop thinking about it.

But. Take today, for example. This particular afternoon – a Saturday – Carlos is heading into town to pick up something for dinner. The City Council has – for a collection of reasons that make no logical sense but seem to have resulted in a number of _deaths_ – just banned all wheat and wheat by-products from the town, and that's _awkward_ if you happen to be a fan of bread and really, really _want_ a decent sandwich.

So off Carlos goes, determined to find a quick alternative that won't distract him from his science any more than necessary. It's a lovely afternoon – to be fair, most afternoons in Night Vale are lovely, provided it's not one of those weird days when the sun hasn't risen – and Carlos is feeling pretty good about life, all things considered. He hums to himself as he walks, idly calculating equations in his head, and…

"…Carlos?"

…Oh dear.

It's Cecil. He isn't alone, though – he's with three other people – and they're walking along together, chatting as they go. Of the three, one is an older woman, with the kind of deep, intense eyes that suggest a very special kind of wisdom; a woman who seems to glow if you catch sight of her out of the corner of your eye, but not if you look directly at her. Then there's a man about the same age as Cecil, dressed in khaki and with a cautious air about him that seems somehow incongruous with his smile, who is standing particularly close to Cecil… and if Carlos didn't know that Cecil was single, he'd have sworn the two of them were dating. Lastly there's a bearded man in a straw hat, wearing the kind of garish plaid shirt that by its very existence disproves the theory of intelligent design, and with a flicker in his eyes that makes him look like he's trying to remember something very deep that he can't quite pin down.

"Oh… uh… hey, Cecil."

"We were just talking about you!" Cecil tells him. "I was explaining about that time you came to the studio to test for materials, and… oh, do you know everyone?"

"Uh, no, no, not yet," Carlos replies… although, the more he looks, the more their faces seem weirdly familiar.

"Oh dear, sorry, I should have thought of that sooner. Well. This is Old Woman Josie, and Scout Master Earl Harlan, and this is John Peters–"

"…you know, the farmer?" the man himself interjects, with a bright smile.

"…Hey, everyone," Carlos manages, not quite sure what else to say. "Where are you all headed?"

"Over to the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex," Josie tells him. "It's League Night and we're in with a shot at third place if we… oh, hold on one second."

She pulls a ringing cellphone out of her pocket and looks at the screen. "…Darn, I'm going to have to take this," she says, and steps off to the side as she answers the call. "Hello? Hello? Erika? This better be important, you know it's my bowling day! Wait… he said what now?"

And she wanders further off, still talking hurriedly to whoever this Erika is.

"You'll have to forgive Josie," John says to Carlos. "She's having issues with the angels again."

"…Angels?" Carlos repeats, well aware that he shouldn't ask but completely unable to stop himself.

"Oh yes," Cecil adds. "Josie is the Night Vale expert on angels, on account of the fact that they live with her. Although…" and here he lowers his voice, "…we're not supposed to know about them so we should probably keep it down."

"…Right," Carlos manages. "I… so… you're going bowling?"

"We are, yes," Earl replies. "The four of us have been bowling together for years."

"Hey, you want to come along?" Cecil asks, speaking rather fast as if he's been psyching himself up to it. "We always get some practice in before the league game and I'm sure we can find someone else to even out the teams."

The question provokes an odd little look in Earl Harlan's eyes, though he doesn't say anything.

"Uh… no, no thanks, I… have lots of errands to run," Carlos sort-of lies.

"…OK, that's… OK," Cecil answers, sounding somewhat crestfallen. "Well… you know, any time you want to… you've still got my number right?"

"Yes, Cecil," Carlos tells him. "I've still got your number."

He's still got it. He's had it for weeks – ever since Cecil gave it to him at the end of one of the scientists' press conferences – though he's never actually used it.

Sometimes he sits and stares at it, though. And wonders. And…

…oh dear, Cecil is saying something else to him and Carlos' mind has gone off on a tangent.

"…uh, yes, that would be… that would be great," Carlos manages, hoping that this at least vaguely matches up with whatever Cecil was just saying. "Well, good luck with your bowling. I… I should be going."

And he gives them all a quick wave – Cecil, the two men, and the woman who still seems to be having a frantic conversation with the mysterious Erika – before darting off.

Even as he goes, Carlos can feel them all watching. Cecil especially.

Oh. Oh. That just did not go well.

Carlos tries not to think about it as he walks. Tries to focus on something else.

…Like, why were the other three so familiar?

This isn't the first time he's had this feeling. Leaving aside the whole thing with Cecil, Carlos has noticed other people who he's sure he knows. Faces he recognises. It's been happening since the day he arrived in town and he's actually been trying to ignore it – never a good sign for a scientist – in the hopes it might just be some weird side-effect of trying to adjust to moving out here.

But the fact is… Carlos keeps seeing familiar faces, and he knows the place they're familiar _from_ is Desert Bluffs. Perhaps that's why he won't think about it properly.

He wasn't in Desert Bluffs for all that long – only a matter of months – and he didn't know a lot of people all that well, so it's been easier to ignore, and yet…

Something very strange is going on. The more Carlos thinks about it, the more he realises that Night Vale is full of people who look like people in Desert Bluffs. In fact, of the ones he knows well enough, Carlos is sure they're even doing the same jobs as their counterparts.

Cecil certainly is. 

Don't think about it. Just… don't think about it.

But how long can he _not_ think about it?

***

And the doppelgangers aren't the only problem. The thing with the clocks is getting worse.

Carlos has spent weeks on it now, trying desperately to work out what's going on, but he can't pin an answer down. He's getting more and more concerned, though, given that a lot of the clocks seem to contain some kind of… is it alive? Or… what, exactly?

He doesn't know. But Carlos is increasingly sure he ought to be alerting people about it.

The trouble is… the best way to do that…

…he could always call another press conference instead..?

No. The fact of the matter is, the best way to get the word out about the clocks is to ask Cecil to do a piece on it during his show. _Everyone_ seems to listen to it, so it's clearly the way forward.

It's just… it's… just.

Carlos thinks about it for a long time. A long, long time.

This particular evening, he's lying on his bed listening to Cecil's show, and… OK, yes, sometimes he listens to Cecil's show when he's _not_ working now. Usually he's working but sometimes… sometimes he's just not. Like now. He's lying on his bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling and wondering what he should do whilst he listens to Cecil talk.

The man is waxing lyrical again. There's no one in the world who can wax lyrical like Cecil can, and he has the ability to swing from being surprisingly dry and funny to being utterly existential and thought-provoking and it's… it's kind of nice.

Right now, Cecil is midway through musing on what it means when it rains in the desert, which – of course – very rarely happens but did happen, albeit briefly, this morning. Just listening to him talk is so… _calming_ and… and _good_ , and Carlos finds himself increasingly lost in the words. In the images those words conjure up. In… the strange wonder that Cecil seems to be gifted with finding in everything.

And that's when Carlos decides. He's going to call. He's going to call tomorrow night and ask the man to do a story on the clocks and… and maybe ask if he knows how to get in touch with the Secret Police because this really is starting to get out of hand, and…

…a day is long enough to psyche up to it? Right?

***

A day is not long enough to psyche up to it. It's three days before Carlos actually calls – one evening, having spent the afternoon examining a particularly dangerous-looking clock that finally pushes him over the edge – and he's confident, as he puts the phone down, that he's messed it up completely.

Completely.

Which means… he's going to have to call again. Maybe it would be safer to call whilst Cecil's on air. That way… that way he'll just get the other man's voicemail, and he can leave messages, and… and it will be less weird.

Right?

It doesn't feel less weird, though; not as he's pacing up and down in his living room the next day, leaving Cecil an admittedly clearer message about the clocks and…

…wait, what was that?

He's still on the phone as he ducks down and creeps closer to the window, peering out and…

…there's a man at the door.

A man in a tan jacket.

***

Carlos spends the rest of the afternoon in a haze, but not entirely sure why. He somehow manages to end up arranging to meet Cecil the next day, though how he's going to get through an entire one-on-one conversation with the guy, he really doesn't know.

But it's important. Something is seriously wrong with time in this town, and people need to be warned.

And that's the only reason. There is no other reason.

Oh, how can this be happening? How can this be happening again? How is it that he's increasingly drawn to a man who… who… who is his maniac ex's doppelganger?! Listening to him on the radio is one thing, because he sounds so different, but every time they meet in person… all Carlos can see is Kevin. All Carlos can remember is the day he left Desert Bluffs. The day of the attempted hostile takeover.

He can't let it happen again. Can't.

But… Cecil isn't Kevin. And there's nothing to suggest he'd ever do what Kevin did. Though… before it happened, there was nothing to suggest that _Kevin_ would do it either.

…OK, not _nothing_ , but…

Carlos makes himself another coffee and goes back to his lab. He's got to focus or this is all going to turn into even worse of a mess than it already is, and…

…wait, what's that on his chalkboard?

There's something written in the top-right corner. It's in his handwriting, but Carlos has absolutely no memory of doing it, and… could it have been when… when whoever it was came over for… for whatever they..?

He pauses, and takes a very, very deep breath. He's lost time. That much is obvious, though he's been trying to deny it all afternoon. He'd been on the phone to Cecil… well, to Cecil's voicemail… and there had been a… someone had…

…Oh, why can't he remember?

Try as he might, Carlos can't get a single thought from that missing time to actualise. All he has is the lingering awareness that _something_ happened… and this. And the words on his chalkboard, written in his own handwriting: words he doesn't even remember writing and certainly doesn't understand.

_'A flower in the desert. 06.15.13.'_

What does that even mean? And what are the numbers? Are they… oh, maybe they're a date? June 15th? What's going to happen on June 15th? And… wait, June _15th?_ That will be the one-year anniversary of the day Carlos moved to Night Vale. But… nothing more than that. And it isn't as though anything _significant_ happened on that day, right?

Carlos has no idea what this is all getting at. And that… is not a state of mind he enjoys.

But, hey, at least it's a good distraction from the ever-worsening sitcom-psychodrama that is his life right now.

Why doesn't the universe get that he just wants to do science in peace?

***

The next few weeks pass in a haze of work and frantic concentration. So long as Carlos doesn't stop to agonise over things, he's much better off, though he is getting to the point where he really doesn't sleep enough again. But. It's for science. Science and distraction from…

No. No. Just for science.

He hasn't seen Cecil since the day they met for coffee to discuss the clocks. Scientifically-speaking, that meeting was a success, although _non_ -scientifically-speaking it was a disaster, and… and now Carlos is starting to worry he's been leading Cecil on, and…

…and it's all not good. So he focuses on his work. He's best when he's focusing on his work. Best when he doesn't let himself get distracted by other things.

He still listens to the radio, though. There's no harm in that, right? It's just… just an anonymous transaction. And a way to keep up with what's going on in Night Vale. And… and no other reason.

Early this particular afternoon, he's working away in his lab with the radio on in the background. He's been listening to a very weird local documentary about the possibility of the existence of _mountains_ – something most of Night Vale doesn't seem to believe in – and, before Carlos knows it, Cecil has gone live. And there's an odd urgency in the man's voice as he goes straight to the news, announcing…

…wait, doesn't the weather usually come later?

A sandstorm. There's a sandstorm incoming. There have been a few already since Carlos moved to Night Vale – they're not exactly rare in this part of the world, and they used to happen over in… in Desert Bluffs too – but from what Cecil is saying, this is going to be a particularly big one.

But… a sandstorm is just a sandstorm, right? Carlos has no plans to go out, and no need to go grocery shopping for at least a few days, so the weather can just do its thing and leave him to work.

…Right?

That's when it starts to get weird. Really, _really_ weird. Before long, Cecil is reporting that everyone in the town is running into their doppelgangers – _fighting_ their doppelgangers – and now Carlos can't concentrate even a little. He hurries to the front window and peers through it and, sure enough, there are a couple of people out on the sand-swept street, engaged in furious fist-fights with people who look absolutely identical to them. People who – from what Cecil is saying – are apparently just appearing out of thin air.

No one appears around Carlos, though, despite his sudden terror at the thought that they might. That… that another him might suddenly pop into existence and try to kill him.

But all of this is just… making the whole doubles-thing worse. Regularly running into people he recognises from Desert Bluffs is bad enough, but now _copies_ of people are appearing without explanation, and… and are they connected somehow to Desert Bluffs? Or is it just a horribly unwelcome coincidence?

And who – or what – is behind it all?

It isn't a welcome thought, though Carlos can't stop thinking it nonetheless. He sits in his lab, door locked, trying to ignore the roaring of the sandstorm beyond the walls and staring at the radio, hanging on Cecil's every word as though he's some kind of beacon of sanity amidst the _in_ sanity of this day. But at the back of his mind, Carlos is increasingly aware of something else:

Cecil doesn't have a doppelganger either.

Another _him_ never appears. His intern – Dana – kills her own doppelganger pretty much live on air (or the other way round, because it seems to be borderline impossible to tell the original and the double apart) and still… there's only one Cecil.

Carlos realises, in retrospect, that this is when the alarm bells should have started ringing.

But it isn't. It isn't until the pitch in Cecil's voice changes, and he announces that a vortex has just formed on his studio wall. Until he announces that he's _going into it_.

"Don't!" Carlos urges out loud, unable to stop himself. "Don't go near that thing, Cecil!"

The other man can't hear him, though. He's talking to an inanimate object. He's gripping the edge of the table and talking to an inanimate object and he can't remember the last time he was this scared.

No. He can remember _precisely_ the last time he was this scared. Which just makes it worse.

Cecil goes into the vortex, and… there's silence. Silence. It weighs heavy on Carlos, in a way he's never experienced before. As though he can feel the gap in the world where Cecil is supposed to be, and it's… it's so…

…Then footsteps. Movement, in the broadcast booth. Is he back? Is he back already?

_"Hello? Hello, Desert Bluffs?"_

It's Kevin.

His voice cuts through Carlos like a razor, and he's confident that, were he not sitting down, he would have fallen to the floor at those few simple words. His heart is suddenly racing like he's just been running flat-out – an appropriate analogy, really, considering that's what he's sure he should now be doing – and his breath catches in his chest.

It's Kevin. Kevin is here. Kevin is in Night Vale. Carlos hasn't heard the man's voice in eighteen months and the merest flicker of it makes him dizzy with terror. And… and…

… _need_.

No. No, no, no.

 _No_.

All he can do is listen; listen as Kevin tries to work out where he is, and what's going on. It lasts only a few minutes – before he cues the weather and disappears – but in that short space of time… Carlos goes through more than his mind knows how to process.

Need. Terror. Revulsion. Regret.

 _Loss_.

It burns in his chest, an anguish that will not fade. He's spent eighteen months running, eighteen months _hiding_ , and in an instant… it's as though it was all for nothing.

But… no! No! It isn't all for nothing. Kevin isn't here because of Carlos. He's here because, like Cecil, a vortex has formed in his radio studio, and…

…this is the point at which Carlos' mind catches up with where this chain of logic is leading. If Kevin came here through a vortex, then it's more than likely that Cecil has…

…oh, Carlos can't think it. He can't engage for longer than a few seconds with the idea of where Cecil must be, right now. What he must be seeing. Experiencing. Feeling. _Fearing_. Desert Bluffs is not exactly a place you should go without significant mental and emotional preparation.

And Carlos has never been more sorry to be right. It's proven, moments later, as the weather comes to an end and Cecil's voice cuts the air once again. It's a dizzying relief to hear proof that he's OK, that he's alive, but all the same… Carlos can hear the edge to the other man's voice, as he carefully avoids talking in any depth about where he's just been.

But Carlos knows. He can hear it. That vortex led to Desert Bluffs, and Cecil… will never be the same, for having seen what he must have seen. And on some deep level, Carlos wants to drop everything and race across town – sandstorm be damned – and tell Cecil that it's going to be OK. That you learn to live with it. That every day you're not there, you're infinitely more glad of wherever you are.

Only… if he did… if he…

Every time Carlos sees Cecil, he sees Kevin. And now… he can hear him too.

He's never going to escape if he can't let go.

…If he _won't _let go.__

__Carlos takes a deep breath, clicks the radio off, and walks away._ _


	3. Newton's Law of Universal Gravitation

**Newton's Law of Universal Gravitation**

_The closer two things are, the greater the attraction between them._

***

It's June 14th.

It's been three months since the sandstorm. Three months since Carlos last had the radio on – and he misses it, yes, but this is a necessary step – and in that time… he's been better. Calmer. More focused. More… _scientific_.

This is not to say he hasn't seen Cecil at all during those three months – the man is at every single press conference and informational event and it's impossible to avoid him completely – and… and there's the part where Carlos has been calling him every now and then. Quite a few nows and thens, if truth be told, but it's for _science_. It's so that he can get Cecil to spread the word about weird happenings or potential dangers, which is _sensible_ and so on, and it's been…

…it's…

Why is Carlos still agonising over the man? So Cecil looks like Carlos' maniac ex and has a massive crush on him. How is that still a thing?

…it is _so_ still a thing.

This particular afternoon, Carlos is working in his lab. He's not alone, though: Toby and Arlene are both here, helping with the latest experiments, and – if nothing else – it's reducing the amount of time Carlos spends glancing over at his chalkboard where that message is still written in the top-right corner.

_'A flower in the desert. 06.15.13.'_

"…and Frederick _insists_ it won't _actually_ kill anyone, but seriously, the guy is getting way out of hand and no matter how many times he says it's because Max Planck appeared to him in a dream, a death ray is still a death ray!"

"Too right," Toby says, looking over at Arlene as she falls silent. "Maybe we need to stage an intervention or something. What do you think, Carlos?"

"…Hm?" he says, realising only now that he hasn't been paying full attention.

"About Frederick and his death ray?"

"It's very… industrious?" Carlos tries, hoping this might be the answer Toby is after.

"Industrious? It's insane!"

"…The two can be alarmingly close at times," Arlene points out.

"Very true," Carlos concedes.

"You're… somewhat distracted this afternoon," Toby says, tone careful now. "Are you OK?"

"Oh, sure, I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine," Arlene chips in, and only now does Carlos wonder if the two of them have talked about this in advance. "You've been weird for days."

"Maybe you need a break!" Toby suggests, before Carlos can insist – and by 'insist', he means 'lie' – that he's fine again. "We could go do something fun! Like… check out the Museum of Forbidden Technologies! OK, yes, the place is maddening because they won't let you see any of it, but you still get to be _close_ to untold scientific wonders even if you can't actually _look_ at them."

"Or… we could go bowling!" Arlene adds. "You know, in case you want to do something _less_ scientific, though if we go we just _have_ to take Vincent because he's got this algorithm for calculating shot-angles, and…"

"…Much as I like bowling," Toby interrupts, looking suddenly nervous, "no way am I going near the Fun Complex until they've sorted out the whole deal with that hidden city."

Carlos stares. "…Hidden _what?_ "

The other two both pause and glance at him in surprise. "You don't know about the hidden city?" Arlene asks.

"It would seem not," Carlos points out.

"Well… there's a hidden city," Arlene goes on, somewhat unnecessarily. "It's under the bowling alley. Teddy Williams found it about a year ago. A bowling ball rolled through a gap in the pin retrieval area of Lane Five and, when he went after it, he discovered an entrance into a vast, underground cavern. There's a huge city down there, full of mysterious spires and glowing lights, and Teddy's been convinced for a while now that the people _from_ the city are starting to come up here. That's what his militia is for."

Carlos stares some more. "His _militia?!_ "

"Wow, you really need to listen to the news more," Toby says. "Yep, he's formed a militia. They guard the place most nights now, ever since Teddy released the CCTV footage that he says is proof someone from the city has been up on the surface."

"And… no one's thought to maybe try going down there?" Carlos now asks. His curiosity is piquing, despite how insane all this sounds, and he's suddenly possessed of an urge to investigate.

"Whoa, no," Toby replies, looking nervous. "I mean, seriously? Go down there where who-knows-what could be waiting?"

"Sure," Carlos says. "Sounds to me like either this guy Teddy is crazy and the whole thing isn't true, or it _is_ true and then he's crazy for not just going down there and trying to make contact with whoever lives in that alleged city."

He pauses, thinking about it all for a moment. He isn't sure why he's so drawn to the whole affair… but he is. And, one way or another, he needs to work out what's going on.

"…I'm going to check it out," he adds, after a moment. "Someone needs to."

Both Toby and Arlene stare at him in alarm. "You can't go down there! It might be dangerous!"

Carlos shrugs. "I'm sure it will be fine. I'll be careful. I mean, what could go wrong?"

"Lots of things!" Arlene insists.

"At least do some preparatory research first," Toby says.

"Oh, that much is a given," Carlos replies, almost off-hand. "I'll look into it tonight and then go over tomorrow. What's the name of that place again?"

"The Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex," Toby tells him.

Carlos stares. Then he stares at his chalkboard. And then… he takes a deep breath.

_'A flower in the desert. 06.15.13.'_

Whatever it is… this is it.

***

Carlos sits on the hood of his car in the Arby's parking lot, watching the sun sink lower and lower towards the horizon.

His mind should be racing – racing! – and yet he feels calmer than he has in weeks. Months. He feels… as though everything makes sense now.

It's been quite a day. He's known from the start that it would be, although the day he _expected_ to have still pales in comparison to the day he _has_ had.

He aches. This is not a surprise, given that the people who really _do_ live in the very much _real_ underground city tried to kill him barely an hour ago. And despite being – it turns out – _tiny_ people, those little psychopaths sure did pack a punch. Carlos doesn't think he's seen that much blood since… OK, no, don't think about that… and certainly _never_ that much of his _own_ blood.

But he's OK. He's OK because one of Night Vale's featured resident maniacs – the Apache Tracker – inexplicably leapt down into the pit after him and hauled him out before the tiny people could overwhelm him completely. Carlos still has no idea why the guy would do a thing like that. They've never spoken. Never had any cause to interact. And yet, not only did the Apache Tracker save his life, he himself _died_ as a result.

How are you supposed to process something like that? Carlos doesn't know, although he's confident he'll dwell on it for quite a while. When it was all over, he tried to get some kind of clue from the other people at the bowling alley – some idea as to why the Apache Tracker might have done such a thing – but no one really knows much about him, beyond the fact that he's a racist jerk, that he can apparently only speak Russian because of some sort of incident, and that he's often reported in the company of a man in a tan jacket, who no one can remember or describe.

A man in a..? Why does that sound so..?

Carlos knows he'll dwell on this, too. But right now… he has something else on his mind. Something… something so much bigger.

The strange thing about being put in a life-or-death situation – about being in a moment where you genuinely believe you might be about to die – is that it has the amazing ability to sharpen the mind. To make you see things you haven't been able to see before, or haven't _let_ yourself see.

And Carlos sees, now. When those tiny people attacked; when he felt the pain, saw his own blood, perceived his own fragile mortality… that was the moment he finally knew.

He didn't want to die. He _couldn't_ die. He couldn't die… because he'd never told Cecil the truth. He's spent so long denying it, running from it, hiding from it, but the reality of it all is… Carlos hasn't stopped thinking about Cecil since the moment they first met. And there's a reason for that, and it's a reason that Carlos can't deny any more.

He nearly died. He nearly died and it made him realise that he's been letting his fear define him. Letting his fear of the past dictate his future.

But time doesn't work here. There is only _now_. There is only now and, at last, Carlos understands what he wants that now to be.

And that's why he's texted Cecil. Why he's asked the man to come and meet him right here, in the parking lot of the Arby's. Carlos has been hiding too long. It's time to tell Cecil the truth…

…most of the truth. Possibly it would be best to leave out the part where his ex is Cecil's doppelganger. It will just over-complicate things and besides… it's not like it's ever going to be relevant, right?

He sees another car pull up close by. Cecil's car. This is it.

***

The next few weeks pass in a glorious whirlwind. Cecil's joy at Carlos finally returning his expressions of affection is impossible to miss, and Carlos finds himself being carried along by it. And though he's nervous – given that Cecil is his first boyfriend since he broke up with Kevin, and also given that Cecil is Kevin's doppelganger – Carlos manages to move beyond it all and just… enjoy this.

Because it is very enjoyable. Cecil is smart, and funny, and sweet, and… genuinely interested in learning more about science, which is a big help because Carlos talks about it a lot. He's also a perfect gentleman. They go on several dates, and at the end of each one he drives Carlos home, and though there's always a hopeful look in his eyes as they say goodbye in the car, outside Carlos' apartment, he never pushes for anything more. And though he does have a tendency to talk about their dates the next day on the radio – to which Carlos is now regularly listening again – he never gives away too much, and he never sounds anything other than utterly delighted by how their new relationship is going.

Their initial few dates are a little… eventful. Their first date takes place amidst the growing menace of some strange, buzzing shadow beings who briefly replace almost all of the people of Night Vale, and who Carlos does have to play a minor role in thwarting. Their second date is interrupted by the arrival of the Glow Cloud; furiously drunk and in a rage after having been stood up on a date of its own, and set on making the helpless citizens of the town fight for its amusement as a coping mechanism.

Carlos will never look at parking meters the same way, even if the bruises don't last for long.

Their third date takes place mostly in the community radio station, when a minor technical mishap surrounds the whole building with a swarm of potentially sentient lightning that vaporises anyone it touches. The station loses two interns that day, though the date is saved from being a complete disaster because Carlos is already in the building, having come in to carry out some tests on a small ball of blue energy that has taken to following Cecil wherever he goes and which is – ultimately – discovered to be the cause of all the angry lightning.

But then things start to calm down. They start to calm down and become almost sort of… normal? If, indeed, there could ever _be_ such a thing as 'normal' in Night Vale.

And it's… kind of awesome. Very awesome. Both how right it feels, and how right _Cecil_ feels.

All of this is running through Carlos' mind this particular evening as, once more, Cecil drives him home. They've had another lovely date, and Carlos is very much aware that he doesn't want it to end here. He wants… he wants to move this forward.

He wants… he _wants_.

He's scared again. Scared of what it will mean if he takes this step. Scared of how it will feel to be with Cecil, having been with Kevin. Scared of what will happen if Cecil ever finds out about all that.

But he can't be scared forever. Fear was what kept him from this for so long.

Cecil parks the car outside Carlos' apartment.

"I had a great time tonight," he says, looking over at Carlos.

"Me too," Carlos tells him. " _Really_ great. And I was… you know, I was wondering…"

The hope in Cecil's eyes is suddenly clear and unashamed, and Carlos realises just how much he likes seeing it there.

"…do you maybe want to come in?"

If the hope is good to see, it's nothing compared to the utter joy that registers in the other man's expression at those words.

"I'd love to," Cecil tells him.

So they both climb from the car and Carlos leads the way up to the front door, unlocking it and letting them inside. They step into the little hallway, Carlos shutting the door again, and… OK, wow, this hallway is very small with two of them and they're standing really close, and…

All of a sudden they're kissing hard, and yes, they've kissed plenty of times before, but… not like this. The need is palpable and undeniable and really, _really_ good. Carlos holds on tight, letting Cecil kiss him, and oh, but how long has he needed this? How long has he made the other man wait for something they apparently both need more than oxygen?

They do still need oxygen, though. Cecil breaks the kiss with a breathy little gasp that's positively _delicious_ , and then there's a moment where they're staring at each other from very close up. A moment where they can be understood without the requirement for words.

A moment where some part of Carlos – that he long thought he'd left behind in Desert Bluffs – is silently daring Cecil to make a move.

And it works.

Cecil pushes Carlos against the nearest wall, which sends a wave of anticipation racing through him. Anticipation and need and… OK, yes, a little fear too. Because this… all of this… it means so much, and it's terrifying because Cecil is so familiar and yet so not, and…

"…You're shaking," the other man points out, gently; hesitating over the next round of kissing that he was obviously about to initiate. His eyes are so intense and Carlos is caught in them now… but not trying to get away. Oh no. Far from it.

"…I'm scared," he admits. "I… I want this to be right. I _really_ want this to be right. I just… it's been such a long time, and I… I had a very bad breakup before I moved here, and…"

Cecil puts a hand over Carlos' heart, which is racing. "It's all right," he whispers. "I'd never hurt you. Whatever's happened in the past… it won't be like that. You're safe with me."

And Carlos knows he is. He presses in against Cecil's chest, arms wrapped around him, curling in tight, and he can feel it, in the way Cecil holds him in.

He _is_ safe.

"Take me to bed, Cecil," he whispers. "I want you to. I _need_ you to."

"There's nothing in the whole world I want more," Cecil whispers back. " _Nothing_."

He looks to the side and then meets Carlos' eyes again, with a flicker of a grin. "Which way?" he asks.

"Oh, sorry, yes, that way," Carlos replies, headtilting off to the right, in the direction of the living room and – beyond it – his bedroom. If nothing else, it's best they don't go _left_ as that leads to his lab, and they probably shouldn't have sex in there.

…Not the first time, at least.

Cecil grins again and kisses him, slow and gentle, and it's only now that Carlos processes that the other man must be nervous too. It's so hard to think of Cecil as anything other than unflappably calm and collected – because that's how he sounds on the radio – even though Carlos has seen the guy go to pieces more than once whilst trying to have a conversation with him.

It's completely adorable. It's also… very unique to him. As in… it doesn't remind Carlos of…

…OK, no, don't think about that. _Him_. Don't.

Cecil slowly starts to direct them both through into the central area of Carlos' apartment – a decent-sized living room with a small kitchen towards the back – and further onwards in the direction of the door that he's obviously – correctly – surmised leads into the bedroom.

They move slowly, kissing over and over as they go, every touch calming the constant storm of thoughts inside Carlos' mind. It's hard not to be apprehensive all the same, but the truth of the matter is that he enjoys it, and the balance of the two makes this… interesting.

" _Please_ ," Carlos whispers, as Cecil starts kissing his neck in just the right place; the place that makes him feel light-headed and suddenly needy.

"You're so amazingly beautiful," Cecil says to him, hands starting to slip under clothes. "I never thought I'd be so lucky…"

He strips them both slowly, taking his time, kissing gently over skin as it's uncovered, and Carlos – normally very hands-on – just lets him, drifting in the contact more and more. Lost in the man who finally lays him back on the bed, pressed in over him, skin to skin.

"I want you so badly," Cecil whispers, almost as if hesitant to admit it, as if doing so might somehow cause the moment to shatter and fall around them like shards of broken crystal.

But it doesn't. Oh no. It just makes this point of barely-perceptible time all the more perfect.

"I know," Carlos replies. "I know. I _wanted_ to be wanted… but just by you."

Cecil kisses him hard at that, the contact dizzying and blissful, and then he pauses a second, staring at Carlos as if reading the look in his eyes. As if checking, one last time, that this really is OK.

He's so wonderful it makes Carlos' chest ache, in all the right ways.

And then Cecil pushes a hand down between them, between Carlos' legs, starting to stroke him slowly, firmly, and _oh_ but the contact is so electric that Carlos feels as though all the air has been knocked from his lungs.

It's been a long time. Such a long, long time, but that isn't the only reason Carlos is already half out of his own mind. It's because it's Cecil, and, seriously, how could Carlos have ever made them wait this long?

But it doesn't matter now. They're here. This is right. This is so right that Carlos has to reach up and wrap both arms around Cecil, holding on tight for a moment, not only because it's a wonderful sensation but because he feels like the world is inverting, and he's got to hold on just to stay here.

And from the look in Cecil's eyes… he's a little out of his mind with happiness too. But… there's more to it than that. There's more to it, and as Carlos' awareness of that fact builds, it only makes his own need increase.

The other man presses in closer. "Tell me how that feels," he whispers, and though his voice is soft and careful, it's also like liquid sex and starlight; dark and deep and beautiful. And pulling Carlos further and further down.

 _"Amazing,"_ he manages to reply, aware he already sounds wrecked – and looks it, too, as he lets his arms drop back on the bed, spread wide open; as he is, body and soul, beneath the other man. "Just… Cecil, Cecil, please don't stop…"

"I won't," Cecil tells him. "I won't. I've got you now. _I've got you._ "

And the way he says it… it's as though he's trying to remind himself of this fact as much as Carlos. As if he still can't quite believe his luck. But at the same time, the sheer _possession_ in his tone is dizzying and wonderful and _exactly_ what Carlos needs. And he'd happily let Cecil drive him right out of his mind like this. _Very_ happily.

Except… he wants to go all the way. _All_ the way.

A little shyly, he puts a hand up, resting it on the side of Cecil's face. "Slower," he whispers, even though it's almost painful how much the need flares when Cecil does as Carlos asks. "Slower. I… I want to give you more. Want to give you _everything_."

More than everything. He wants to give Cecil time and space itself. Wants to re-write the laws of physics so that the universe really does bend around him. Wants… _wants_.

Keeping eye-contact, Carlos does that little headtilt again; now towards the nightstand.

"Top drawer," he whispers, not elaborating. Knowing Cecil will realise when he looks.

It's possible Cecil already realises, though he doesn't say anything just yet, and instead leans over to tug the drawer open and retrieve the object – the small bottle of lubricant – that's inside.

"You're sure?" he whispers, a questioning look in his eyes as he settles back into place.

"Of course I'm sure," Carlos whispers back. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. And I once proved this theorem where… OK, no… you don't need to hear about that right now…"

"You should tell me later, though," Cecil adds, with a smile. "You know I like listening to you talk science."

"Well, then, I'll explain it in depth," Carlos promises. "Maybe even using the chalkboard. And string."

"You need string to explain a mathematical theorem?"

"You do in Night Vale."

It's possible they're both nervous.

Cecil presses in to kiss him – perhaps trying to rectify the nervousness and perhaps just because it feels so very good – and then pours a little of the lubricant onto one hand, slipping it down between Carlos' legs once more.

And… pushing a finger into him, just one finger, though even that makes Carlos suddenly wrap both arms up around Cecil again, holding on tight.

"…Is that..?" Cecil starts out, but Carlos manages to relax his own grip on the other man, moving one hand to lay fingers over Cecil's lips.

"It's amazing," Carlos reassures him. "It's just been a long… _oh_ … a long time. But if you stop, I think the world will end…"

"Then I won't stop."

And he doesn't. And though every movement is slow and careful, it still feels breathlessly wonderful. More than enough to start pushing Carlos out of his own mind, and even more so when – with a flash of a smile that nearly makes reality invert – Cecil slips a second finger in alongside the first.

" _Yes_ ," Carlos gasps. "Yes… yes… that, oh so much that…"

"You know you're _ridiculously_ hot like this?" Cecil says, in that soft, certain voice that makes Carlos want to flat-out beg him never to stop talking.

"I'm… _oh yes… yes_ … glad you approve," Carlos just about manages. "I'm hoping you might want to see it more often…"

Oh dear. His mental filter is down. And they've got a long way to go yet.

Cecil looks even more delighted, and still there's nothing underhanded or ulterior in his eyes. Nothing at all.

Merciful Einstein, he's one in a million.

"I'd like that," Cecil replies. "I'd like that a lot."

Carlos smiles, and he can feel it… that pure, perfect happiness he didn't think he'd ever get back, and it's as though the whole world has just dropped away to leave this: only this.

Only them.

Still holding eye contact, Cecil gently pulls his fingers free and reaches for the lubricant again. Carlos takes a deep breath, knowing what's coming, and wanting it more than he can put into words.

And then the other man is pushing into him, slow and careful, watching his eyes the whole time, and that look is so intense that Carlos is sure Cecil is sliding inside his mind as much as his body. He gasps again, whispering in barely-coherent need; whispers that Cecil finally calms with a kiss, deep and caring but also full of a sudden hunger that leaves Carlos utterly breathless.

But it's nothing compared to the way all the oxygen is knocked from his lungs when Cecil starts to move, and it's as though the whole world has just broken in two around them, revealing all the beautiful intricacy of creation itself.

And still, all Carlos sees… is Cecil.

"Don't stop," he whispers, and oh but he really means it this time. "Oh, Cecil, don't stop."

"You feel so amazing," Cecil whispers back, right in his ear. "I can't… can't put into words how much I…"

"…I know… I know."

He does know. The whole world makes sense now. Perfect, wonderful sense; and every moment, every movement, is bliss, gradually pushing Carlos further and further out of his own mind and into the cool, dark hinterlands beyond. He reaches up to hold on tight again, pulling Cecil in for another kiss, and another, and another, until everything is just a wash of sensation and pleasure and absolute, total _rightness_.

Which is when Cecil slides a hand down to start stroking Carlos once more, and it's all so much that he can suddenly feel the edge; the edge he so badly wants to tumble right over. " _Yes!_ " he cries out, half-wrecked and desperate. "Yes… like that… _please_ … please…"

" _Anything,_ " Cecil breathes against his lips, the declaration and the promise like the fiery glow of sunrise; bright and brilliant and undeniable. "Anything. Don't hold back. I have you. _I have you_."

And maybe it's this that finally kicks Carlos over the edge. Maybe it's those words, that realisation, that promise. All he knows is that, with a sudden cry, he's coming hard; the world whiting out as absolute completion overtakes, rushing through him in wave after wave of bliss.

"Cecil!" he gasps. " _Cecil!_ "

It's clearly this that finally undoes Cecil, his eyes suddenly wide with delight and adoration, and even as Carlos' own climax starts to abate he's holding onto Cecil as the other man's thunders through him. Cecil holds him back just as tightly, whispering Carlos' name with something like rapture in his voice before pressing into the crook of his neck and drawing rough breath until the moment finally begins to fade.

And then they just collapse into each other, curled around one another as though that connection is the very essence of life itself. It's a good couple of minutes before either one can speak or move, but they're very lovely, comfortable minutes nonetheless.

" _Thank you_ ," Cecil finally manages, his own voice a little wrecked too, in a way that's just positively _delicious_. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," Carlos murmurs back.

"Yes I do. That was… that was _amazing_."

"Then the feeling is mutual."

After another moment, Cecil carefully rolls them both onto their sides, gathering Carlos tighter into his arms and still holding on.

"You're… you're staying, right?" Carlos whispers.

"Of course I am," Cecil promises. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be. Even a combination of all the other places I might quite like to be wouldn't come close to how much I want to be here."

He's rambling again, like he used to before they started dating. It's adorable.

"Good," Carlos says, with a smile. "Because all I want right now… is to fall asleep in your arms, and to know you'll be there when I wake up."

"I'll be here," Cecil replies. "Unless I've snuck out to make you breakfast in bed."

"Much as that does sound lovely," Carlos whispers, "I can think of other things I'd rather be doing in bed in the morning…"

This makes Cecil's eyes go suddenly dark with pleasure and amusement. "I should have known," he says. "It's always the quiet ones…"

"Oh, absolutely," Carlos tells him. "And I can prove it. With graphs. Or, you know… in other ways."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

"I'm counting on it, Cecil," Carlos whispers, curling in tighter. "I'm counting on it."

***

When Carlos wakes up, the first thing he's aware of is that he isn't alone.

On the contrary, he's still curled close to Cecil, wrapped in the other man's arms, and it is quite possibly the most wonderful feeling in all the world. For a few minutes, Carlos doesn't move, content to just lie where he is, held and wanted and _safe_.

"Hey," Cecil murmurs, all of a sudden.

"Hey," Carlos whispers back, finally opening his eyes and looking up at him. "How did you know I was awake?"

"I could tell by the way the rhythm of your breathing changed."

Something about this is strangely adorable.

Cecil strokes a hand over Carlos' shoulder. "Did you sleep all right?"

"Better than I have in years."

This is something of an understatement. Carlos has never been one to sleep well, but he's confident he's been out all night, without waking once. And moreover, he feels like he could just lie here for hours, drifting on the edge of wakefulness and yet utterly content.

Only this is when Cecil chooses to roll Carlos onto his back, slipping into place on top of him, and the movement makes his heart start to race again… but in a very, very good way.

"Last night was amazing," Cecil says, and it's there in his voice just how much he means it.

"You weren't so bad yourself…" Carlos manages, blushing. "I feel… _wonderful_."

He does. It's like the whole world has gone quiet, right down to a molecular level, and there's nothing but this room, this place, this connection. Them. _Him_. And everything else, all of the worry and danger and the heavy, ominous past… it's all faded back. For the first time in forever, he can't feel any of it.

Cecil looks delighted beyond words, and presses in to kiss him, full of joy and _want_ , and it's just _intoxicating_ to experience it. To be the reason for it. To be the _target_ of it.

Carlos wraps his arms up around Cecil and kisses him back, over and over until they have to break for oxygen.

"You know," Cecil says, "it _is_ Sunday. Which means we don't have to move for _ages_."

"Very true," Carlos agrees. "Also, time doesn't exist, especially here. So, scientifically-speaking… we have _forever_."

This makes Cecil's eyes light up all the more. "I can't argue with that," he replies. "I'm _very_ into science."

"I know," Carlos reminds him, with a suddenly wicked flash in his own eyes. "Oh, I know…"

***

Eventually they _do_ have to get up. They aren't exactly quick over this process either, but – given that it's a Sunday and also given that time doesn't exist – they don't have to be.

As they're finishing breakfast, Carlos notices that Cecil keeps glancing down towards the hallway, at the one door he hasn't been through yet. Realising the other man must be intrigued, Carlos gives a little grin.

"That's my lab," he explains. "Would you like to see?"

"Definitely," Cecil replies, looking delighted by the invitation. "You know my feelings on science."

Carlos can't quite hide the way his expression lights up at that, especially given the new and recent set of memories it now evokes. "So does half the town," he says – but warmly – and he gets up, leading the way down to the door and opening it, gesturing Cecil into the room beyond.

"Whoa," Cecil breathes, taking in the sight. "It's… everything I imagined. You've got quite a set-up here. Can I..?"

Carlos nods, and Cecil starts to walk slowly down the central aisle, looking around. "I'll be careful," he promises. "I don't want to accidentally end the universe, or condemn us all to a lifetime without electricity, or some other calamity. I know you can never be too careful where science is concerned."

This makes Carlos grin again. "I don't think I'm quite equipped to end the universe," he says, although – this being Night Vale – you can never be sure.

Cecil paces further down, eyes wide with interest and excitement.

"You like it?" Carlos finally asks, unable to resist.

"I love it. What are you working on?"

Carlos gives a little shrug. "All kinds of things. I'm still trying to make sense of those massive seismic readings we keep picking up – despite there never having been an earthquake the entire time I've lived here – and every now and then I repeat my tests on the clocks, in the hopes of finding one that's actually real. Oh, and I've been trying to develop a form of ink that the City Council will class as legal, because you have no idea how difficult it is to do scientific research in a town where writing implements are banned…"

He gestures at one of the workbenches, where there's a collection of interconnected tubes and glassware with something bubbling away in it; something that's currently a rather alarming shade of red and glowing intermittently.

"…Though it hasn't been a total success thus far," he admits, looking at it with his head on one side, wishing he knew why it was still such an unhelpful colour. "But I'll get there eventually."

Cecil smiles. "I know you will," he says. "You always do."

"Oh, and there's this," Carlos adds, waving at a small, rounded stone about the size of a golf ball, with intricate carvings all over its surface. He's been waiting weeks for a good opportunity to tell Cecil about this one. "A couple of guys from my team found it out in the desert."

"What is it?"

"We're not entirely sure. But when you hold it, you become incapable of speaking words that include the letter E."

"That's… odd."

"Very," Carlos agrees. "And quite awkward. Things got extremely confusing before we worked out what was going on."

'Extremely confusing' is something of an understatement. It took them hours to calm Toby down afterwards.

"I can imagine."

Except… that memory sparks off a different, connected memory in Carlos' head, and he feels suddenly nervous again, for the first time this morning. Cecil clearly picks up on it, because after a moment he walks back over, carefully taking Carlos' hand and holding it against his own chest. "What is it?" he asks, softly.

"I…" Carlos starts out, and then stops, pausing to bite his lip. He opens his mouth to speak again but then decides otherwise and – instead – grabs hold of Cecil and pulls him in to kiss.

It feels very lovely, and Cecil certainly doesn't object to it. The other man keeps hold of him when the kiss breaks, watching his eyes with care. "You don't have to worry," Cecil tells him. "We can take this as slow as you need. I told you… I won't ever, _ever_ hurt you."

Maybe he understands more than he lets on. Maybe he's just more wonderful than Carlos ever dared hope.

Maybe there are things Carlos should say at this point.

But he doesn't.

"I know," Carlos replies. "And I regret nothing, Cecil. Nothing. I promise you that."

Cecil pulls him in to kiss again, and every touch, every point of contact, chases back the anxiety. The uncertainty. Chases it back and replaces it with this, with them.

 _Them_.

There's a smile on Carlos' lips when they break again. It's a nervous smile, yes, but a real one nonetheless. He can do this. He _wants_ to do this. More than he can even put into words.

"Show me some science?" Cecil asks. "I mean, I can't exactly tell my listeners about last night… so I need something else to tell them instead."

"All right," Carlos agrees. It is, after all, a good idea. Science can be so soothing. "You want to see what's _really_ in the clocks?"

Cecil grins. "I thought you'd never ask."

***

The next couple of months are an – admittedly insane – joy beyond all telling. Now that he and Cecil are finally together, it's as though a great weight has lifted off Carlos' mind. He can think clearer. Work more effectively. And he _feels_ infinitely better for it. Better than he has in… in ever, really. He even finds himself starting to finally get used to how weird Night Vale is, even if he doesn't think he'll ever just accept it the way Cecil does.

But that doesn't matter. Sometimes… there's a lot to be said for having a little weirdness in your life.

Time passes, at whatever rate it does in Night Vale, and it's… good. At long last, Carlos finds himself feeling _safe_ here… and not just when he's wrapped in Cecil's arms, breathless and euphoric and more wanted than he thinks his mind knows how to process.

Because he is. Wanted. Safe.

And then, one afternoon, Carlos is heading back to his apartment along the warm, sun-kissed streets. He's been over at Toby and Arlene's place, helping them with some of the latest seismic data, and now he's on his way home. It's early and Cecil is probably still on air, which means Carlos will have time to listen to the recording of today's show before the man himself calls.

This is happening a lot now. One of them will call the other, pretty much every afternoon, and they'll end up spending the evening at either of their places, and…

…it sort of makes Carlos wonder if maybe they should consider…

…no. It's too soon. Isn't it? Or…

…this warrants further thought.

He's dragged from said thoughts by a sound high above, and looks up in time to see a pair of helicopters come flying overhead. Carlos has long gotten used to the helicopters that are frequently in the sky over Night Vale – even more than the ones he used to see over in Desert Bluffs – so usually he pays them no mind at all.

But today… something makes him look up. Maybe it's the way people on the street are stopping and staring. Maybe… it's just instinct.

And when Carlos looks up at those two helicopters, he feels like his heart is going to stop. They're yellow. _Yellow_ helicopters, with an emblem on the side: an orange triangle marked with the letter S.

Carlos has seen helicopters like these before. Seen that emblem before.

"… _Strexcorp_ …" he whispers, in a horror so deep he can hardly process it. "…No. No. Not here. Not now…"

As if in answer, his phone starts to ring. He pulls it out, seeing Cecil's name on the screen, and takes the call at once.

"Cecil?" he says, knowing the worry is clear and unhidden in his voice. "Cecil, are you all right?"

"Uh… yes, except… also no," Cecil replies. His voice sounds worried too, and Carlos knows it takes a lot to get that kind of reaction from his boyfriend. "…Do you maybe want to meet up this evening and I'll tell you all about it?"

"Yes," Carlos tells him. "Yes. Just tell me when and where."

***

Carlos sits in Cecil's living room, staring at him, trying to process the words he's just heard.

"…Strexcorp bought the radio station?"

Cecil nods. He looks more concerned than Carlos has ever seen him, and that alone is very unsettling.

"They're moving into Night Vale," Cecil says. "The helicopters were the first wave, but just this afternoon they started buying out businesses all over the place. They've been in town less than five hours and early estimates are they already own seven percent of it."

"Of the entire town?" Carlos exclaims. "That's fast, even for them…"

This makes Cecil look over at him in surprise. "'Even for them'? You know Strexcorp?"

Carlos immediately realises he's said too much. "Uh… yes, well, I've heard of them," he says. "I mean… only in passing, but they've got quite a reputation. They're… ah… they're from that other town just over, aren't they? Desert Bluffs…"

Cecil's expression darkens. "Yes. That… that terrible place."

The shadows are there in his eyes again – the shadows that only the mention of Desert Bluffs can provoke – and on some level Carlos wants to talk to him about it. Wants to talk to him about the day of the sandstorm, about what he saw, and about the flickers of things that have come to light since then.

But he can't. He can't because, if he does, he'll eventually have to admit…

He can't. He can't tell Cecil about Kevin.

He can't.

Wordlessly, Carlos pushes into Cecil's arms for a hug, and the other man wraps him in tight. And that… that helps. He rests against Cecil's chest, listening to his heartbeat, letting the contact soothe him.

"You're… more unsettled than I thought you'd be," Cecil points out, very carefully, after a long moment. "I figured you might be a bit concerned but… seriously, are you OK?"

"I'm fine," Carlos flat-out lies, and oh how he hates himself for doing it. Why can't he just tell Cecil the truth?

The answer to this is, sadly, obvious. If he tells Cecil the truth, he risks losing everything they have. Risks losing the one good thing to happen to him in… in forever. And he can't do that. He can't. The thought of being alone again is…

…and he's remembering, now. Remembering headlights on a dark road, and the glow of Desert Bluffs in the rear-view mirror. Remembering figures walking through the haze. Remembering… remembering the man he thought he loved, with a blood-streaked knife in one hand and a demon at his back…

"…You're shaking," Cecil points out. "Carlos… what is it? Tell me. _Please_."

"I… I just… I worry about you," Carlos says. Which is true, oh yes, but it's far from the whole truth. "I know those guys are… are bad news, and I… I don't want anything to happen to you, Cecil, because I… I love you."

He's never said it before, but he means it perhaps more than he's ever meant anything in his life. And yet, saying it now… fills him with a guilt he can't put into words, because he's saying it as a distraction. He's saying it to stop Cecil from asking what's wrong again.

Because Carlos doesn't know if he could avoid answering a second time.

Instead… instead, Cecil pulls back just enough to meet his eyes, staring at him as if the whole world has suddenly fallen into place. "You… you love me?" he whispers, sounding as stunned and as hopeful as he did that evening in the Arby's parking lot.

Carlos nods. "Yes. I love you."

"I love you too. I thought… I mean, I wasn't sure if you… but you do, and I…"

He's going to pieces again, and that makes it all the more painful, because Cecil only ever goes to pieces over things that really, _really_ matter. But Carlos doesn't need this as proof of how much the man means what he's saying. His voice alone is enough.

Cecil puts a hand on the side of Carlos' face and pulls him in to kiss, deep but gentle and so full of love.

And it hurts. It hurts.

In all the right ways.

In retrospect… this was another warning sign.

***

Cecil and Carlos stand on the roadside, looking at the house in front of them… and as they do, there's a moment where they both instinctively reach to grip each other's hands.

And that's how they know. That's how Carlos knows.

This is it.

They've been house-hunting for a few weeks now, ever since the incident with the condos. That was… a very strange day, even by Night Vale's standards. Very, very strange. And though Carlos is still having some _extremely_ odd dreams, there doesn't seem to have been any lasting damage done.

On the contrary. The insanity and the danger and the near-death experience (or whatever 'achieving perfection' really meant) of that day were just the impetus Carlos needed. He'd seized the moment; seized it whilst he was still sprawled out on the concrete, Cecil leaning over him, both of them looking back at the vast, featureless black cube that – whatever it was – wasn't good news.

And now… they're house-hunting. It's a tricky process, given that neither of them is willing to go through any of the Strexcorp realtors, but there are still a few left in Night Vale who haven't – yet – been bought out.

Cecil spends some time explaining to Carlos that realtors live inside deer, and in the end Carlos just nods and accepts it. Sometimes… that's the best option.

"…This is it," Cecil breathes, staring ahead at the house in front of them both.

"Yes," Carlos replies, gripping his hand tighter. "This… this is it."

This is it. This is the place where – not now, but soon – he's going to tell Cecil the truth.

…Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have wanted to write Cecil and Carlos' first time for months but have never been able to get it to work. Turns out what I needed to do was add an angsty backstory!
> 
> There is something very wrong with me...


	4. The Zeroth Law of Thermodynamics

**The Zeroth Law of Thermodynamics**

_If two systems are in balance with a third, they must also be in balance with each other._

***

Things in Night Vale go from bad to worse. As the weeks roll by, Strexcorp's grip on the town grows ever stronger. More and more businesses are bought out – or forced out – and the mood of the populace begins to darken. Between the disappearances, the youth militia, the vastly increased censorship and the deeply bizarre incident with the oranges, Carlos doesn't know how much longer the situation can last before something – or someone – snaps.

But Carlos has Cecil, and they have a place together, and for a long time that keeps both of them going.

The trouble is… Carlos knows he's let this go too far. He's let their lives become utterly entwined and inseparable – which he wants very much – but without ever telling Cecil the truth. And with every day that passes, it becomes harder to live with. Harder to deny.

And the risk Cecil will find out some other way increases exponentially. There are graphs. Mental graphs, that keep Carlos awake night after night.

He's dug himself into a very deep hole and he has no idea how to get out of it.

This particular morning, he comes wandering into the kitchen to find Cecil already here, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee next to him, and his phone in one hand.

"Good morning, sleepy," Cecil says, looking up and smiling. "I wondered if I was going to have to come wake you." The smile gets just a tiny bit wicked. "Did I tire you out again?"

Carlos blushes. "You kinda did," he replies. "You're good at that."

Cecil reaches to grip Carlos' hand, pulling him closer and kissing his knuckles. "There's coffee in the pot if you want some."

"That might be a good idea…" Carlos agrees, and heads over to pour himself a cup. "What are you reading?"

"Transcripts of the numbers broadcast by WZZZ last night," Cecil tells him. "One of these days, I am going to work out what that is all about."

He's been like this for two weeks now, ever since the day WZZZ's transmissions went _seriously_ weird and Cecil took it on himself to go investigate. Since that day the transmissions have gone back to normal – as much as a numbers station could _ever_ be considered 'normal' – but Cecil remains convinced there's a message hidden in the numbers, and has formed a small internet group to try to work it out.

"What time are you heading to work?" Carlos asks, settling at the breakfast table with his cup of coffee.

Cecil glances up at him again. "…You know it's Saturday, right?"

"It is?"

"Yes. Saturday March 15th, if we're being precise – which I know you usually are – and… oh… oh…"

The way his expression changes speaks volumes, and Carlos knows it would have been impossible to miss even if he hadn't reached the same realisation at exactly the same moment.

"…March 15th?" he repeats, softly. "That's…

"…Sandstorm Day," Cecil replies. "One year since…"

Their eyes meet, and it's weird because, in that moment… Carlos feels like he could tell Cecil everything. He could tell him everything, and Cecil would understand, because both of them have their own reasons for being unsettled – for being _terrified_ – by Desert Bluffs. By the sandstorm. By what it all represents.

This is it. Sweet and merciful Einstein, this is it.

"Cecil, I…"

Cecil's phone starts to ring, interrupting Carlos before he can get another word out. Cecil looks apologetic. "Uh… sorry, it's the station calling, I should probably take this."

He hits a button and lifts the phone to his ear. "Hello? Oh. Hi, Daniel…"

The look of distaste on his face is clear, and Carlos sympathises. He hasn't actually met Cecil's Strexcorp-issue producer, but he's heard more than enough stories.

"Uh… right, right, I see. Well, if it's so… yes, I get what you're saying. Yes, OK. I'll be there in an hour. Yes." A very long-suffering sigh. "Goodbye, Daniel."

And he hangs up.

"What was that all about?" Carlos asks.

Cecil does not look pleased. " _That_ was the delightful Daniel. He says there's an emergency meeting for all radio station employees taking place in an hour and I need to be there."

"On a Saturday?" Carlos replies.

"Yep."

"They can do that?"

"Strexcorp doesn't do weekends. And I don't think it would be wise to argue. Not after how much trouble I've been in since the day I climbed up on the roof…"

"…Oh, Cecil, don't remind me. I nearly had a fit when I realised what you were doing. Did Daniel say what the meeting was about?"

"Apparently there's a team of Strex higher-ups coming to town," Cecil tells him. "And whoever these people are, they want to see us all. It isn't just us. The meeting's being held outside the radio station because it's easy to find, but there's going to be employees from various businesses turning up."

"Sounds serious," Carlos replies. "Just… just be careful, OK?"

"You could come along, if you want," Cecil says, sounding suddenly hopeful. "Daniel says it's open-forum, so… there's no reason why not."

Much as Carlos would prefer to stay as far away from anyone Strexcorp-related – especially 'higher-ups' – as possible, he isn't going to abandon Cecil at a time like this.

Not when things are already so bad.

Not on Sandstorm Day.

"All right," Carlos agrees. "Then I'd better go jump in the shower."

"Me too," Cecil adds. "Possibly at the same time. To speed things along."

Carlos gives him something of a look. "That won't speed things along, Cecil."

It doesn't.

***

Despite being somewhat distracted, they make it to the radio station just in time. There's quite a crowd outside already – the radio station staff, along with representatives from a number of other local Strex-owned businesses – all milling around and talking amongst themselves, trying to guess at what's going on.

"Cecil," comes a smooth, female voice, and someone makes their way over as Cecil and Carlos approach the large group. "So glad you made it."

"Uh… absolutely," Cecil replies. "Of course. It isn't as though I have anything important to do on a Saturday, after all. And… oh, I'm sorry, Lauren, this is Carlos, my boyfriend. Carlos, this… this is Lauren, our programme director."

The woman in question – Lauren – gives Carlos a look that makes him want to run as far away as possible. She's tall and sharply-dressed, with a Strexcorp pin badge on her lapel, and a flicker in her unusually bright blue eyes that Carlos has seen too many times before. A flicker that's too reminiscent of things he'd rather forget. And right now, she's staring at him the way a hawk watches a fieldmouse.

 _Hungrily_.

This is not exactly a surprise. The woman did threaten him, not all that subtly, live on air just a few weeks back, and Carlos has been looking over his shoulder ever since.

She can't do anything now, though. Right?

"Ah," Lauren says, as if aware she's been staring in silence for an over-long moment. "Carlos, yes. The brilliant scientist. Nice to meet you in person at last. You're even more impressive than you look in your surveillance photos and… oh, hold that thought, I think we're good to go."

Cecil grips Carlos' hand tighter, as Lauren gives them both one last stare and makes her way to the head of the crowd.

"Good morning everyone, and thank you for coming at such short notice," she begins, after holding up a hand for silence. "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Lauren Mallard, programme director right here at Night Vale Community Radio. I know you must be wondering why we've called you all together, so I'll get right to it. A number of my colleagues from the Strexcorp management chain are coming to Night Vale – in fact, they're here already – to lead the next stage of our operations here in the town. Since they will be working closely with all of us – and since team spirit is at the heart of the Strexcorp business model – they are beginning by meeting everyone informally. So this is your chance to get to know the people who will be driving performance from here on in, and ask any questions you may have. And… aha, here they are now…"

Everyone turns, as a group of people come walking round the corner towards them; walking in unison like a street gang but so much more… corporate. There's seven in total, six of whom are dressed in black suits with bright orange ties, which would be more than enough to scare Carlos half to death if he wasn't utterly transfixed and soul-crushingly _paralysed_ by the sight of the seventh man. The seventh man who is walking at the head of the group; almost glowing in the late-morning sunshine and yet darker than the deepest depths of night.

Carlos can't breathe. Can't move. Can't speak.

The seventh man is Kevin.

"…What?" he hears Cecil breathe at his side, gripping his hand again in shock. "I… but that's…"

 _Run_ , every fibre of Carlos' being screams out. _Run_. Grab Cecil and run far, far away. Anywhere. Anywhere but here. Run, and never come back.

But he still can't move.

"Well, hello, Night Vale," Kevin says, stepping up and addressing the crowd with the brightest smile on his face. "I must say, it's such an honour to be here… you know, again." He gives a sheepish little look, as if everyone was in on the secret. "For those of you who don't know, my name is Kevin and I work over at Night Vale Community Radio's sister station in Desert Bluffs, so I asked to have this first meeting right here on friendly turf. I've been once before, of course, although I didn't know it at the time. Once before, exactly one year ago, in fact. Happy Sandstorm Day! I think that was quite a turning point in all our lives – I know it was a turning point in mine – and I'm just so happy to be back here on the first anniversary of that game-changing incident…"

A lot of people are staring. Some of them are probably processing the words, but Carlos is confident they're all stuck on the same thought:

Kevin is identical to Cecil.

"Oh, I see that look in your eyes," Kevin goes on, with a little wave. "I was prepared for this in advance, of course. I know I have one or two things in common with your own community radio host, Cecil. Is he here? I did so hope that…"

The crowd parts at this, so that Cecil and Kevin can see each other clearly for the first time, and the way Kevin's expression lights up as their eyes meet is… _terrifying_.

"Wow," he breathes, taking a few steps closer, walking along the corridor the crowd has formed between them. "Even knowing about you in advance and having – technically – met you once before couldn't quite prepare me for… wow. We are completely identical, aren't we?"

"Apart from the voice," Cecil points out, very dryly.

"Yes, apart from the voice," Kevin agrees, unfazed, and moving gradually closer, step by step. "Helpful, really, seeing as we both do radio! I must tell you, hand on heart," a gesture he actually makes, "that I'm just _delighted_ to meet you properly at last. I don't know how long I'm going to be here for but I'm sure we can work together in a way no one else could. We're _connected_ , Cecil. I can feel it, I know you can feel it, I'm sure everyone here can feel it, and…–"

And that's the moment when Carlos snaps. He's been lurking in the crowd, trying to stay out of Kevin's line of sight – only Cecil's presence keeping him from full-on running for it – but those last words are so threatening that he can't keep quiet any longer.

He can't. He's been hiding all this time and now it's time to stop.

Carlos steps in front of Cecil, staring Kevin down. He doesn't know what to say – and he's not entirely confident he could get a word out right now if he tried – so he settles for the strongest glower he can manage.

And for a second – one glorious second – it's _so_ worth it. The look on Kevin's face as he sees Carlos for the first time is one of utter shock, and he's clearly thrown.

The trouble is, Kevin is very good at recovering from things like this. And Carlos? Carlos really isn't.

"Oh _my_ ," Kevin breathes. "Well, this is just… _perfect_. You really didn't run all that far away, did you?"

"I did," Carlos insists, somehow finding the breath to speak. "I just… came back again."

"So I see," Kevin replies, and then his eyes flick from Carlos to Cecil and then return to Carlos, as he clearly works out what's going on. "And… oh. _Oh_. This is exactly how it looks, isn't it? You and _Cecil?_ Oh, Carlos, Carlos, you've certainly got a type, haven't you?"

"…Carlos?" Cecil says, stepping in closer behind him and putting a hand on his hip… and the way the man's voice shakes as he speaks almost destroys Carlos on the spot. "You… you know him?"

"… _Oh_ ," Kevin breathes, briefly clapping a hand to his mouth in surprise. "You haven't told him?"

"…Told me what?" Cecil whispers. "I…"

"Don't you dare say it," Carlos hisses at Kevin. "Don't you dare say another word. You're not surprised to see me. Not _really_. You knew I was here and you set this whole thing up."

Kevin gives a little shrug. "Well, I may have known a thing or two. But I didn't think you'd actually come here this morning and I didn't know you two were an item… and even if I had, I certainly wouldn't have expected to find that Cecil was still completely in the dark about us."

"… _Us_?" Cecil repeats, voice shaking all the more.

"Oh yes," Kevin replies, smoothly. "You see, Cecil… Carlos and I used to be together. We were lovers, in the strongest sense of the word. Carlos lived in Desert Bluffs for months and we were together for much of that time… and _oh_ , the stories I could tell you. But then, two and a half years ago… he left."

"And in the interests of completeness, let's maybe tell everyone why!" Carlos exclaims. "I left because you turned out to be a deranged _maniac_ and that isn't exactly an attractive quality to me!"

"Carlos, _lovely_ Carlos, Strexcorp doesn't employ deranged maniacs," Kevin insists, and perhaps the worst part of all this is how damnably calm and sane the man sounds. "Just hard workers with good business sense and an eye on the bigger picture. Like… Night Vale for example. After the sandstorm, I went straight to the Management Board and said that they _needed_ to expand their operations out here. Imagine my surprise when I found out they were already thinking the same thing! That was just further proof of how attuned I am – and have always been – to the needs of the business. It's why I was asked to take a short break from the radio and come out here… and, believe me, I was _delighted_ to do it."

He takes a step closer, which makes Carlos instinctively take a step _back_ , where he can feel Cecil right behind him, and the fact that Cecil stays where he is, hand still on Carlos' hip, is pretty much the only thing keeping Carlos going right now.

"I think perhaps we should talk," Kevin says, very smoothly. "Just the three of us, in private. Don't you agree?"

"We're not going _anywhere_ with you," Carlos retorts, as fiercely as he can, though it's plain to hear just how much his voice is shaking.

Kevin holds his arms out, gesturing at the crowd still watching them in stunned silence. "You'd rather talk in front of everyone?"

"Maybe… maybe we should take him up on that…" Cecil suggests, in a voice that's cracking from too much emotion; a voice that makes Carlos feel like he's been suddenly punched in the chest. "…So… so you can explain what…"

And Carlos can hear it. Cecil wants to know the truth. Cecil wants to know the truth and, when he does… all of this will be over.

All of this _is_ over.

Carlos can feel the world shattering beneath his fingertips. He takes a step forward, pulling away from Cecil and standing almost toe-to-toe with Kevin. His heart is racing, a mixture of terror, grief and rage, and he knows he isn't thinking clearly.

But it's hard. He had everything. Everything he wanted. Everything he needed. And now… now it's all dissolving away, like salt in the rain.

" _Go to Hell_ ," he whispers to Kevin, and then turns, pushing through the crowd and walking off; a walk that rapidly turns into a frantic run, as the full realisation of what he's done hits home and the terror overwhelms.

He hears someone shout his name, but can't even process who it is. Can't even process if it's one of them, both of them, or someone else entirely. He runs without knowing where he's going, without knowing what he can do.

Without any thought but the crushing realisation that he's just lost everything.

***

And that's how Carlos comes to be sitting in Mission Grove Park in the early afternoon of Sandstorm Day, the sun beating down on him and yet perceiving not even a flicker of its warmth.

He's been here a while, seated with his back against one of the lesser monuments at the far end of the park, on the brink of a low, grassy hill. A few people have wandered past but they've all given him a wide berth – maybe they know why he's here – and right now… he's alone.

And, yes, he's been crying, though the tears have stopped coming at last and he's moved into that far worse mental place; the place beyond the tears. The place where everything is just cold, numb reality, bitter and inescapable.

"…Carlos?"

He jumps at the sound of his name, turning to look round before his mind has even processed the voice.

It's Cecil. He's standing a little way off, expression wracked with a mixture of sorrow and relief, looking like he's not sure if he should come any closer. "I was so worried. I couldn't find you and you weren't answering your phone."

Carlos looks down. "I know. I ditched it."

Cecil pulls the object in question from his pocket and holds it up for a moment. "I know. I found it by the pond. You probably shouldn't leave it too close to the ducks. Last time someone did that, it took the Secret Police _days_ to work out who was making all those prank calls…"

Apparently he's trying to make Carlos smile – though, this being Night Vale, the story is likely true nonetheless – and Carlos can't help glancing around again, unable to keep a flicker of hope out of his eyes as he does.

"…Can I?" Cecil asks, gesturing to the ground next to Carlos.

"Go ahead," Carlos tells him, and Cecil settles at his side.

There's a very long, very difficult silence. Carlos spends it trying to work out what to say. How to even _begin_ to do this, when he's so sure it's going to end with him hearing the words 'and I never want to see you again'. This means he's somewhat taken by surprise when – the silence having apparently gotten too much – Cecil turns and throws both arms around him, pulling him into a desperate hug. For a second – just a second – something in Carlos' mind processes the movement as a danger and he tries to jump back, but then he realises it's anything but.

It's Cecil. His Cecil. Who apparently – somehow – still wants him.

Carlos pushes as deep as he can into his boyfriend's arms and holds on tight.

"Don't ever do that to me again," Cecil whispers, though there's nothing in his voice but desperate love and a heavy dose of lingering fear. "Not after the bowling alley."

"You're one to talk," Carlos replies. "Between the sentient computer, the abandoned numbers station, and the time you _climbed up on the roof_ , you have no room to argue!"

This just makes Cecil hold onto him tighter, and Carlos does the same. They stay like that for a long moment, and it's hard to tell which of them is shaking the most. Carlos can barely process that this is even happening; that this day could possibly contain anything other than the complete and absolute end of his world.

"Tell me what happened," Cecil implores, finally pulling back enough to meet Carlos' eyes but not letting go of him. "Please. Whatever it is – _whatever_ it is – it can't change the fact that I love you."

"It can," Carlos insists, wretchedly, dropping his head once more.

Cecil puts a gentle hand on the side of Carlos' face and urges him to look up. "No," he says, softly. "It can't."

There's a long, difficult pause. Carlos manages to hold eye-contact all the way through it, but he's wavering, and the weight of Cecil's attention, his intensity, makes Carlos feel suddenly as though there's no air in his lungs.

But there is.

"…All right," he agrees. "All right. I just… I need you to know that I've been trying to tell you this for weeks. Months. I… I know that doesn't make it any better, but… well. I just need you to know. I… all of this starts over three years ago. I was looking for a change of scenery so I got myself a job working in an experimental science team operating out of this little town I'd never heard of. Desert Bluffs. I… well, I was a bit taken aback when I got there, because the place is… oh, you've seen it, you know…"

Cecil goes very pale, gripping Carlos' hand tightly and nodding.

"So… so there I was," Carlos goes on, "and shortly after I arrived, the guy at the local radio station asks if I want to do an interview. I couldn't see why not, so I agreed. That guy… that guy was Kevin, and… and… we hit it off. Don't… don't hate me for that. He was… charming and funny and smart and… and one thing led to another, and… we hooked up. We were together for several months, and it was… he…"

Carlos almost loses it at that, the guilt and embarrassment and… yes, the lingering, unshakeable need all threatening to overwhelm him. Cecil, for his part, doesn't question it or push him to carry on. He just waits until Carlos is ready.

"…It was really good," Carlos finally manages to say. "I… I need you to understand that. Not to hurt you or… or anything else, but… because it's true. Being with him was… was amazing, and I was so sure I… I…"

He can't say it.

"…So sure you loved him?" Cecil surmises.

Carlos just nods wretchedly.

"Did he love you back?"

Carlos nods again. "He said he did."

"OK. So… what went wrong?"

"That place… that place was insane, Cecil. _Is_ insane. I managed to live with it because I had my science and because I had… because I had Kevin, but… seriously, I can't even put into words what living there is like. The blood and the nightmares and the constant _smiling_ , and… Strexcorp. Everything is connected to them. The whole town is theirs, only the people… the people _want_ it that way. They'd do _anything_ for Strex."

Cecil's expression becomes more and more concerned. "Carlos… what happened?" he asks again, voice giving away how scared he is by whatever answer he's about to hear.

"…Another company came to town," Carlos explains. "They were called Nietzsche Futures PLC, and…–"

"…Oh, I've heard of them," Cecil interjects. "They were getting quite big, until they went inexplicably bankrupt and completely crashed out of existence… two and a half years ago…"

Which is apparently when he realises. Even though he still doesn't know the extent of it.

"Precisely," Carlos says. "They came to town and launched a hostile takeover attempt against Strexcorp. Do you know how Strexcorp – and Nietzsche Futures, apparently – conduct hostile takeovers?"

"…I'm guessing by the look in your eyes that it doesn't involve a boardroom table and a lot of spreadsheets..?"

"That was my first thought too. But no. They conduct hostile takeovers by mobilising all their employees, giving them weapons, and getting them to quite literally fight it out in the streets."

Cecil stares, horrified.

"…You don't want to know the things I saw," Carlos manages, voice shaking as the memories become unavoidable. "And I wasn't even in the midst of it. I only saw a few parts that spilled out into the suburbs. It was late in the day when I realised what was going on… I'd been busy with science, you know how I get, and… I went outside and saw what was happening and then I panicked because I thought Kevin might be in danger, and then… then he turned up. He turned up with a whole bunch of Strex personnel, just like he did today, all of them following him like… like they were _working_ for him. And he… all of them, Cecil, they… they were covered in blood. And it wasn't theirs. They were covered in blood and they all looked _high_ on it. I freaked out. I mean, completely. Kevin decided to deal with this by calmly telling me everything was normal and then introducing me to his _demon_."

"…His _what_?!" Cecil exclaims.

"His demon," Carlos repeats. "Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty, Seventeenth… something to the… to be honest, I'm not wholly sure. Mostly my brain was having enough difficulty processing the _eight-foot demon_ that wandered over for a chat before deciding to leave us to it and heading off to beat three guys from Nietzsche Futures to death with their own legs."

He's hyperventilating a little now. Cecil holds onto him, stroking his back and giving him a moment to calm down, although it's clear that he himself is having a lot of difficulty processing all this.

"And… then?" he prompts.

"And then… I flipped out," Carlos says. "Completely. I was terrified out of my mind and the man I thought I loved was wandering around covered in blood and _killing_ people like it was _nothing_. By the time it got dark, I was driving out of Desert Bluffs as fast as I dared and I never went back. I moved to San Francisco and tried to forget the whole thing. I managed eight months but then… then… well. You know how I'd been friends with Toby since we met at college, and how he talked me into moving to Night Vale to lead the team? Well, that part is true. I almost turned him down, though, because I couldn't deal with the idea of coming out here again."

"What made you change your mind?" Cecil asks, voice shaking a little at that.

"It was too good an offer to pass up," Carlos replies. "And I realised… I couldn't let my fear define me, so I decided to take the risk. I came out here, and the very day I arrived…"

"…You met me," Cecil says, softly, as if he finally understands. "You met me, and I look exactly like Kevin. Carlos… no wonder you seemed so unsettled."

"I _freaked_ out," Carlos tells him, and in a weird way it feels good to finally be able to admit it; this part, at least. "At first I thought you _were_ Kevin and that he'd somehow tracked me down, and then I realised you weren't, and then I freaked out again because how likely is it that you'll run into your ex's doppelganger? And then… I didn't know what to do."

He realises this is pretty much the end of his story – at least as much as Cecil needs to hear – and falls silent, feeling the weight of all the words he's just said.

"…You know I still love you, don't you?" Cecil whispers. His voice hasn't stopped shaking but he sounds _crushingly_ sincere, and in that moment… it's as though the weight lifts; the weight that Carlos has been carrying this entire time, never knowing what to do with, and it's just… gone.

And Cecil still loves him.

Exhausted, relieved, _free_ , Carlos pushes back into his boyfriend's arms and holds on tight, just letting that realisation fill him up; letting the warmth and the contact and the beat of the other man's heart remind him, reassure him, that this is all, somehow… going to be OK.

Yes, there are a lot of other things that are very likely _not_ going to be OK, but this… this is.

"Anything else you want to tell me?" Cecil asks, very softly, with the faintest hint of a smile in his tone now. "Any other secrets I should be aware of?"

"No," Carlos replies. "I think my ex being your doppelganger is probably enough for one lifetime."

"I have to agree with you on that," Cecil says.

Of course… there is that other thing… the thing Carlos won't admit even to himself, but… but that can wait. Indefinitely, if at all possible. It… was just some confused and idle thoughts that crossed his mind once or twice, and… he has bigger things to deal with at present. Like the fact that his maniac ex is now in town.

Yes. That's more than enough to occupy him for the next forever.

"…What are we going to do about… you know?"

"About Kevin?" Cecil asks. "I'm… not entirely sure. We don't know why he's really here yet but… it can't be good."

"That much is certain," Carlos replies. "All we can do for now is keep our eyes open and wait to see what the next move is."

It isn't exactly a great thought, but for the moment it's all they have. Night Vale is in more danger than they can possibly know; Strexcorp's presence in the town is growing day by day, and whatever Kevin is doing here, it can only be bad news.

And yet… as Carlos sits curled in Cecil's arms, on the grass in Mission Grove Park, he's suddenly struck by the realisation that all is more well than it has been in a long time.

It's not a feeling that will last. But it's good whilst it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I decided to title all the chapters in this fic after scientific theorems, this one was called Sandstorm Day. March 15th should be celebrated as a national holiday every year! ;-)


	5. Newton's Third Law of Motion

**Newton's Third Law of Motion**

_For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction._

***

The first few days pass without further incident. Kevin is still around, but neither of them comes face to face with him again and that's a welcome fact.

Carlos knows this state of affairs can't go on for long; knows the man is up to something, _involved_ in something, but for the moment he doesn't know what it is. Nor does Cecil, even though he tries to get the occasional clue out of Lauren or Daniel whilst he's at work.

It's late afternoon, and Carlos is heading into town to meet up with Cecil once he's done with his show. He's gone on foot as it's warm but not oppressive outside, and plus this way he can let Cecil drive him to whatever it is they end up doing for the rest of the day.

The street is quiet, and bathed in sunlight, and Carlos hums to himself as he walks. He knows he shouldn't be feeling so calm with everything as it is, but it's hard not to be when he's still revelling in the relief of having told Cecil the truth. Of hearing, and seeing, that it's OK.

Of having that fact proven to him every night, in the most emphatic way possible.

It is at this point, therefore, that Carlos later realises he should have known it would all go wrong. As it happens, he doesn't expect a thing until the movement comes out of nowhere; until someone grabs his arm and yanks him down a side-street, slamming him into the wall of the nearest building.

It takes a second for him to process what's going on; a second in which he finds himself pinned against cool concrete, his assailant leaning in to keep him in place.

Carlos' heart nearly stops. It's Kevin. He tries to push back – and it works for a moment – but then there's a flash of silver and he instantly tenses up in renewed shock as a very familiar blade is pressed over his throat.

And now he can't move. Doesn't _dare_ move.

"Hello, you," Kevin whispers, with a bright smile on his face. "I thought we should talk."

"Talk?" Carlos repeats, voice a little high-pitched. "This is not talking, Kevin. This is assault."

Kevin gives an off-hand shrug, which is really not a gesture you want to see in the person pressing a knife to your neck. "Well, true," he concedes. "But you weren't exactly in the mood to engage the other day, so I figured I'd better… motivate you a little."

"Consider me motivated," Carlos manages. "Now let me go before you get yourself kicked in a way you won't enjoy."

The other man's smile merely becomes brighter. "Don't threaten me, Carlos," he says, levelly. "It doesn't suit you. You don't need to talk. You just need to listen."

"I was through listening to you a _long_ time ago," Carlos points out, head going suddenly dizzy as the memories flood back. His current predicament doesn't help with that. Doesn't help with that at _all_. He can feel the heat from the other man's body, the intoxicating edge to his presence. The way every point of contact – and there are quite a few of those right now – seems almost electrified and…

…no. No. Don't think it, not even for a second.

"Maybe so," Kevin breathes. "But I'm sure you still remember how. Some things…" and he leans in closer so their faces are just inches apart, with that blade still between them, "…you don't ever forget. Isn't that right?"

"Cecil knows everything," Carlos says, instead of answering. "I told him the whole story."

Kevin looks unfazed. "Given the way the two of you are still wandering around town looking _completely_ adorable together, I guessed that you must have done. I assume he took it better than you expected? I suppose that shouldn't surprise me. I bet he'd do _anything_ for you."

"He would," Carlos replies, as fiercely as he can. "Something you don't have in common."

"Oh, come now, Carlos," Kevin says, his words a breath across Carlos' lips. "You know I'd do anything for you too…"

"…Then let me go."

"I will, in a moment. I promise. After I'm done talking, and you're done listening. Which you should really start doing, because the longer we stand here, the more we risk someone noticing. And I'm sure you don't want Cecil to have to find out about _this_ from a third party as well…"

"Stop it," Carlos hisses. "There is no 'this'. You attacked me and that's all there is to it."

"I haven't attacked you," Kevin insists. "I'm merely giving you a little… physical encouragement to stop and listen to me."

"You have a _knife_ against my throat!"

"Would you have stood still and listened if I didn't?"

"That is not the point!"

"Believe me, it is," Kevin says. "Now _shush_. You need to tell Cecil to be more careful. He isn't making himself a lot of friends in Strexcorp and they're talking about a change of talent. And trust me, Carlos, Strexcorp has a very _distinctive_ style when it comes to firing people. Cecil _needs_ to be more careful."

"A change of talent?" Carlos repeats. "I assume you mean _you_?"

"I would assume the same," Kevin replies. His voice is very level and careful now, but Carlos is still too distracted to pick up on it. "And don't get me wrong, Night Vale is lovely, but I think a lot of people forget the fact that all I ever wanted out of life was to live happily in my Desert Bluffs, doing my show and working for the greatest company on Earth. Things just get so _complicated_ sometimes, you know? So. You tell Cecil to watch himself."

Carlos glares at him. "Is that a threat?"

"No, Carlos. It isn't a threat. It's a warning."

Only now does Carlos' mind put everything together. Only now does he process the strange expression on Kevin's face, the way he's been phrasing things. The way he's leaning in with an almost worried flicker in his eyes, silently urging Carlos to work it all out.

This is not Kevin gloating, or trying to hurt him. This is Kevin – in his own admittedly twisted way – trying to help… and that is _infinitely_ more terrifying.

Carlos' heart starts racing again, and he nods rather more than he needs to. "I see," he says. "Yes. I get it."

"Good," Kevin whispers. "I knew you would."

His voice is like liquid bliss, dark and wonderful, snaking subtly into Carlos' mind with every word. He's been fighting it all this time, but somehow the realisation that he isn't – for the immediate moment – actually in danger just smashes down the mental wall at once, leaving him… vulnerable. Exposed. _Uninhibited_.

There's no conscious decision. He doesn't plan the next move. Certainly doesn't stop to consider it. All Carlos is aware of is that one moment he and Kevin are staring at each other, that blade still between them, and the next… they're kissing. They're kissing like there's no tomorrow, arching hungrily into it as if the last two and a half years never happened.

In a flash of silver, Kevin moves the knife away, and Carlos hears the rough scrape of metal as he re-sheathes it. And then the man has both hands on him, keeping him pinned bodily against the wall; the heat of his touch, of his presence, just making Carlos want him – _need_ him – all the more.

Eventually they have no choice but to break for oxygen. When they do… it's as if the cold light of day has come rushing back through, and Carlos finally processes what he's done. What _they've_ …

Without the knife there anymore, he has no qualms about pushing Kevin off. The other man stares at him in surprise, but doesn't try to move back in.

"Don't come near me again," Carlos manages, voice little more than a cracking whisper. "Don't… don't _ever_ …"

Then the emotion hits and, before he can stop to give it any thought, Carlos turns and runs. _Runs_ , like the whole world depends on it.

This has been happening more than it should lately. But… this time… he isn't running away.

***

Carlos crashes through the doors to the Night Vale Community Radio building and grabs hold of the first intern he sees.

"Where's Cecil?" he asks, realising too late that he looks and sounds very much like a crazy person right now.

"Uh… down in the booth," the woman replies, carefully prising him off as if she's used to this sort of thing and gesturing back along the central corridor. "He's still on air. Just went to the weather, I think, so you might be able to catch him if you're quick."

"Thanks," Carlos says, and takes off running again, following what is now a very familiar path down to Cecil's studio.

He's trying not to think. It's best if he doesn't think. If he just… does this. Running from the consequences won't make them any less… consequential.

He's learning that the hard way.

Carlos skids to a halt outside the studio, peering through the internal window. Sure enough, Cecil is inside, flicking through something on his phone, which means he mustn't be live right this moment.

Taking a deep breath, Carlos knocks on the window. Cecil looks up, smiling as soon as he sees who it is, and gestures him in.

"Hey," he says, as Carlos goes in and shuts the door. "You're early."

"Yeah, I… ah… do you have a few minutes? Or..?"

Cecil gestures to the sound board. "Just went to the weather, so I… wait, is everything OK? You look…"

"I need to tell you something," Carlos starts out, before the emotion can get the better of him. "I need to tell you something right now and I'm sorry for springing it on you in the middle of a show but if I _don't_ do it right now then I'll probably hide it for months again and I can't go through that a second time, and…"

He's pacing now, the agitation and the upset writ large, and Cecil rises quickly to his feet, grabbing Carlos' shoulders and holding him, attempting to make him stand still. "Hey," he insists, gently, "it's all right. Whatever it is, it's all right."

Carlos shakes his head. "Oh no. No. It isn't all right. It's as far from all right as it can be."

Expression full of worry, Cecil tries to pull him in closer, and looks surprised when Carlos resists for a few seconds before he gives in to it. He _wants_ to give in to it, but right now… he's not sure he should. Not sure he deserves to.

"Carlos," Cecil says, in that voice that makes Carlos' whole body flare with need, and his heart flood with guilt, "just tell me. _Please_."

He could lie. Carlos knows it. Even now, he could lie. He could just say Kevin attacked him and that's all there is to it, and it would be sufficient explanation and Cecil wouldn't question it any further. Also that isn't really a lie, per se, because Kevin _did_ attack him.

It's more… an omission of truth. Though that's nearly as bad.

But Carlos won't lie. Won't omit the truth. This time… he's just going to say it.

"…Kevin attacked me," he starts out, because this _is_ true and because he hopes it explains – as much to himself as to Cecil – why things ended up the way they did, even though he already knows it doesn't. "I was walking down here to meet up with you and he attacked me. Grabbed hold of me and dragged me down a side-street, and… and put a knife to my throat…"

Cecil's eyes go wide with unveiled horror and rather more anger than the man usually exhibits. "He did _what?!_ " he exclaims. "Are you OK? Did he hurt you?"

"No, no," Carlos insists. "That was the extent of the… you know, the attacking part. He didn't hurt me; I'm fine. Well. Physically."

"What did he want?"

"He said he wanted to talk. He… well, he rambled a bit; he _does_ that. I don't know if he was trying to wind me up or just wanted to drag the conversation out or… anyway. The crux of it was that he wanted me to pass on a warning to you."

"To me?" Cecil says.

"Yes. It was… Cecil, it was _so_ weird. He said that Strexcorp aren't pleased with you and you need to watch yourself because they might try to _replace_ you, and implied that 'replacement' probably wouldn't be an enjoyable process."

"That isn't a warning, that's a threat," Cecil points out, though he looks suddenly pale.

"That's what I said," Carlos replies. "But Kevin said it was a warning. Cecil, I… I think he was being serious. I don't think he was gloating; I think he was trying to tell us to watch our backs. You especially."

Cecil stares, clearly having difficulty processing this suggestion. "You think… he was trying to _help_ me?" he asks, finally.

Carlos nods. "I don't know why, but yes… I think, in his own twisted way, he was."

Cecil's expression darkens. "I should have known Strex would only tolerate me for so long. Should have known that sooner or later, they'd…"

His eyes flash to the studio window, and then to the sound board, and Carlos suddenly wonders what his boyfriend is contemplating.

He could just leave it here. They have more than enough to worry about as it is, and Cecil looks very much like he's one more unpleasant revelation from being tipped right over the edge.

No. No. Carlos came here to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

So help him.

"There's… there's something else," he says, before he can lose his nerve, and Cecil stares at him again, looking like he can't quite _take_ something else but fully intends to try nonetheless.

_I bet he'd do anything for you._

_You know I'd do anything for you too._

"…I kissed him," Carlos blurts out, all at once. "Kevin. We were up against the wall in that side-street and he'd given me his warning and I realised he wasn't actually trying to hurt me and… and I kissed him. And he kissed me back. And then I realised what I'd done and pushed him off and ran away, but… Cecil. I kissed him. I'm so sorry, I…"

He pulls out of Cecil's grip and tries to go for the door, but Cecil is too quick for him, grabbing him from behind after only a few steps and holding on tight. Tight but caring. Protective. _Possessive_.

…Why does the man have to be so completely wonderful?

"Don't," Carlos whispers. Pleads, almost. "Why can't you just get mad?"

"Oh, I am mad," Cecil says, with an edge to his voice that Carlos has never heard before; an edge that almost knocks him off his feet. "I'm just not mad with you. I'm mad with _them_. They invade our town, take over our lives, bring in my maniac double to stir things up even more…"

At that point the door to the studio bursts open, and in stalks Lauren, with the man who must surely be Daniel hovering close by. Cecil immediately lets go of Carlos, though neither of them actually moves from where they're standing so the effect is negated somewhat.

"…Has there been some sort of electrical catastrophe I'm not aware of?" Lauren asks, coolly, looking at Cecil and Carlos as if clearly aware she's walked in on something, vaguely interested in knowing what it is, but considering herself too busy to actually care.

" _Not yet_ ," Cecil replies, voice barely level.

"I see," Lauren replies. "Well that does leave us with a teensy little problem. The weather ended two minutes ago, Cecil. You've been broadcasting dead air since then."

Cecil looks guiltily back at the sound board, then turns his attention to Lauren once more.

"Do you maybe want to do something about that?" she prompts, when Cecil doesn't speak, and even though Carlos can't see his boyfriend's face right now, he can feel the emotion radiating off the man.

"Of course," Cecil finally answers. He grips Carlos' arm for a second and then turns back to his broadcast equipment. As he does, Lauren and Daniel step outside and close the door, though they both linger at the studio's internal window, watching with narrowed eyes. Not entirely sure what to do, Carlos just stays where he is, though he turns to look at his boyfriend as Cecil goes live again.

 _"My apologies for that brief interlude, Night Vale,"_ Cecil begins. His voice has returned to being level and careful; the very epitome of the radio professional that he always projects. But in his eyes – eyes that only Carlos can see right now – there is something else entirely. _"What just happened was something that, as a journalist and a broadcaster who believes in upholding certain standards, I must apologise for. And I think it's important that… that we all remember…"_

Cecil pauses, looking up at Carlos for a moment, a flash of impulse in his eyes that's dark and wonderful and alarmingly reminiscent of things Carlos really needs not to be thinking about right now.

 _"…You know what, listeners?"_ Cecil says, suddenly, the whole tone of his voice changing to reveal the emotion underneath. _"To heck with all that. We have accepted this state of affairs for too long. We have allowed this to continue, upheld the status quo, and I am just as guilty of it as all of you. Guiltier, in fact, because I have been in a position to do something about it this entire time, and now… now that's what I'm going to do."_

Carlos doesn't know whether to be delighted or terrified at this, but he suspects that 'terrified' is the more appropriate option. Some lingering shred of common sense filters through, though, and he turns at once, locking the studio door mere seconds before Lauren and Daniel both dive at it, trying to get in.

 _"This town has been under the thumb of its oppressors for too long,"_ Cecil goes on. _"And we have tried to deny it, tried to skirt around the issue, but the fact is clear: Strexcorp is evil. Pure, absolute evil. They come to our town, they invade our lives, they threaten the people we care about. And they have, Night Vale. You know it, I know it. People have changed, disappeared, died, and we have stood by and let it happen. But no more. No more can we stand idly by and let these invaders destroy all that we hold dear. So I am calling on all of you to rise up. Rise up, like our local hero, thirteen-year-old Tamika Flynn. Rise up, like we all know Old Woman Josie would have done had she not mysteriously vanished the day Strexcorp first came to town. Rise up and say: we are Night Vale! We are temporal, beautiful, and scientifically-interesting! We will not let our ancient and municipally-dictated way of life be trampled underfoot by these uncaring outsiders!"_

By now, Lauren and Daniel are attempting to break the door down, though it sounds like they're not making much progress. Carlos starts to think fast, trying to work out what he and Cecil are going to do at the end of this. How they're going to get away from here without ending up dead, or worse.

 _"This is our time, Night Vale!"_ Cecil is now declaring. _"This is the time we must rise up and fight for the town we all hold dear. So say it with me, firm and certain and from the heart: We do not look around. We do not look inside. We do not sleep. Our god is not a smiling god. And we will take back everything that is ours! Stay tuned next for dead air interspersed with corporate lies that will only further your awareness that this is the moment in which everything has to change. And until you hear from me again – and I do not know when that will be – I can only say this: Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight."_

The broadcast ends, and there's a second of silence, as if even Lauren and Daniel are trying to process the enormity of what's happened. Then the whole world kicks back in – starting with renewed hammering at the door – and Carlos turns immediately to Cecil, who is staring at the now-dark sound board in shock.

"…I just did that, didn't I?" he whispers.

"Yep," Carlos manages.

"I've wanted to do that for quite a long time."

"I figured."

"…We should probably get out of here pretty quick."

Carlos nods. "Yeah. That might be for the best."

Their only option is the external window, which looks out onto the street. There's a few people out there already, people who – from the expressions on their faces – have probably just been listening to Cecil's broadcast and are now wondering what's going to happen.

Carlos suddenly finds himself wondering whose side they're all on. Because… not everyone is going to be on the same side. Some people – even lifelong Night Valeans – are surely going to be loyal to Strex, insane and terrible though it seems.

But they can't dwell on that for the moment.

Cecil heaves the external window open and gestures for Carlos to climb through first. He does and then Cecil himself follows, and midway through there's a crash as the studio door finally bursts inwards.

Too late to catch them, though. Cecil is out before Lauren can get hold of him; standing with Carlos in the late afternoon sun. People are staring at them… and from the looks on their faces, they understand. They know.

 _They agree_.

"Run," one of them says; a woman with red hair who Carlos doesn't recognise. "We'll hold them off if we have to."

And he's sure of it now. This isn't where it ends.

This is where it begins.

***

They go home.

Both of them are more than aware it won't be safe for them to stay here, but they have to start somewhere. As they get closer they realise there's someone waiting for them, leaning on the fence outside with an air of absolute ease and a subtle little smile.

It's Kevin.

Carlos is about to say something – something along the lines of 'we should make a run for it right now' – but, before he can speak, Cecil turns and puts a gentle hand on his chest.

"One moment," he says.

And, without preamble – or another word – Cecil stalks over to Kevin and slaps him roughly across the face before the other man can get a word out.

"You come near my boyfriend again and I'll finish what I started in that vortex!" he growls.

It's so unbelievably hot that Carlos has to hold onto the fence for a moment. Merciful Einstein, what is wrong with him?!

Kevin backs off, holding up a hand. "Take a breath, Cecil, take a breath," he insists. "You've got more immediate problems right now."

"The only problem I see is the one standing right here," Cecil replies. "Now I suggest you explain what you're up to, and quickly. I take it Strex sent you?"

"Oh no," Kevin replies. "They didn't. And let's hope they don't find out I'm here, because that wouldn't end well for any of us. Me especially, and I really do have to think about me. No one else does." He's staring at Carlos a little as he says this, a flicker of hurt in his eyes that's just beyond what Carlos can process right now.

"Then what do you want?" Cecil demands, folding his arms.

"I heard the end of your broadcast. Did Carlos not deliver my message?"

"Oh, he delivered it. Loud and clear."

"Then maybe you should have _listened_ to it instead of calling for an armed uprising live on air!" Kevin exclaims. "This is not going to help!"

"Maybe I _could_ have listened to it if it hadn't started with you attacking my Carlos with a knife and ended with the two of you _making out!_ "

Carlos really wishes the ground would just open up and swallow him right now. Though that's probably not a sensible thing to think in Night Vale, on account of the fact that it might actually happen.

Kevin, on the other hand, looks unfazed. " _He_ kissed _me_ ," he replies, flatly. "You have an issue with that, fine, take it up with him. But I am not accepting the blame. Not when I risked a lot to give you that warning in the first place and certainly not when I'm risking a whole lot more just by being here."

"Why _are_ you here?" Cecil demands. "Just what are you playing at? A few days ago you orchestrated a very public meeting to confront us, and now you assault my boyfriend and then stalk us home!"

"This isn't stalking, Cecil," Kevin replies. "This is me risking a great deal to come help you. You've upset Strexcorp big time, and that, I can tell you, is not something you want to do. Ever. And then, to cap it all off, you come _home_? Are you _trying_ to get yourselves killed?"

"Is this going somewhere?" Cecil pushes.

Kevin sighs. "We need to get you off the grid as soon as possible. Both of you."

"'Off the grid'?" Carlos repeats. "You actually just said that, didn't you?"

"Yes, Carlos, I actually just said that. And I really do think you should be a little more grateful, because…–"

Kevin trails off in mid-sentence, a flicker of something in his eyes, and Carlos realises at once that something is very wrong. He turns to look in the same direction that Kevin is facing and immediately sees what it is.

There are two men walking up the street towards them; two men in black suits with bright orange ties. Two men who, in a flash, both draw shiny silver blades.

"…Really?" Kevin sighs, pulling his own knife from where it's holstered at his back – which makes Carlos move quickly out of the way, trying to stand in front of Cecil and finding the man instinctively trying to step in front of him at the same time. Wordlessly reaching some sort of compromise, they settle for holding onto each other.

The orange-tied enforcers are still advancing.

" _Really?_ " Kevin repeats. "Here, really? We're doing this now?"

He steps in front of Cecil and Carlos, though it's a moment before Carlos processes what this actually means.

"Stand aside," one of the men insists, as the pair get close.

"I can't," Kevin sighs. "I really can't. Please just find it in your still-beating hearts to go away and pretend you never saw us."

" _Stand aside_ ," the man repeats. "This is official Strexcorp business."

"…Yes," Kevin says, sounding resigned but remarkably calm. "Yes, I know."

The two men exchange a glance. "Apprehend the broadcaster," one says to the other. "Kill the scientist."

Maybe it's those words that push Kevin over the edge. Maybe it was always going to happen. Maybe… it doesn't even count as pushing him over the edge. Whichever it is, the scariest thing is how fast he moves. All of a sudden, the two men launch towards them – aiming for Cecil and Carlos – and Kevin immediately lashes out.

Carlos… hasn't actually seen him do this. Only the aftermath of it. So… it's a fresh kind of horror that floods his mind as the first of the two men goes down in little more than seconds, struck twice in the chest and once in the thigh. As soon as his first target hits the floor, Kevin pulls the blade back and goes for the second.

The shock on the other man's face is obvious. Maybe he'd thought Kevin's behaviour had just been posturing. Maybe he'd thought it was some kind of test. It's clear he certainly didn't think Kevin was being serious, although he can't miss it now.

"They'll fire you for this!" he declares, lashing out with sudden ferocity that means Kevin has to move quickly back to avoid getting himself killed.

"Yeah, I know," Kevin replies, that hint of resignation still in his voice. "But what choice do I have?"

 _What choice do I have?_ Maybe that's what really makes it hit home in Carlos' mind. Kevin _does_ have a choice. He has a choice, and for some completely bizarre reason… he's chosen them.

What the heck is going on?!

"We need to run!" Cecil says, a little frantically, still holding onto Carlos.

"We can't just leave him!" Carlos hears himself saying, though the words come on instinct and he feels a burst of renewed shock at what they mean.

By now, Kevin and the second Strex enforcer are fighting hand to hand, blades flashing through the air, and… merciful Einstein, it's kind of incredible to watch. Or it would be, if it wasn't so completely terrifying.

And then Carlos feels the bottom drop out of the world in a way he really isn't prepared for as, in a sudden burst of movement, the Strex enforcer sends Kevin reeling to the ground. He doesn't cry out, but it's hard to imagine how he doesn't because he's covered in blood, and it's clear that – this time – a fair amount of it is his own, mostly from the deep-looking wound at the top of his off-arm.

"I would never have expected this of you," the enforcer says, closing in. "Some of the lower-level employees, maybe. But not _you_."

"See, now you've hurt my feelings," Kevin replies, somehow managing to deflect the next attack and swing back up onto his feet, even though it's clearly not easy. "You don't think I'm capable of this? You don't think I'm capable of suddenly deciding to betray the company I've dedicated my life to, just because they're trying to kill the man I thought I loved until he abandoned me and ran off two and a half years ago? Have you _met_ me?"

The enforcer shrugs. "Not before today."

Kevin shrugs too. "Ah well, at least you got that privilege before the end."

"Wait, what..?!" the enforcer starts out but, before he can get any further, Kevin has floored him in a whirl of movement and – Carlos manages to shut his eyes this time – stabbed him in the chest.

It's a long, long moment before Carlos dares open his eyes again. Cecil is still holding onto him, and he can feel how much his boyfriend is shaking. Finally managing to look, Carlos stares over at the sight still stubbornly refusing to blink out of existence in front of them.

Both of the Strex enforcers are dead; sprawled on the ground and covered in their own blood. Kevin stands over them, bloodied too – a fair amount of it _his_ own – and catching his breath. He slips the knife away, then tries to take a step and ends up staggering down onto one knee, hand over the wound on his arm, face rapidly paling.

"…Oh _wow_ , that hurts," he says. "Seriously, I have _got_ to be more careful…"

He blinks over at them. "Uh… sorry to impose, but could I maybe trouble you for an aspirin or something? This is really _very_ painful…"

Carlos can feel the way Cecil tenses up at that, and he's confident it's because Cecil knows what Carlos is going to say next.

Has to say next. Even though part of him just wants to grab Cecil and run.

"…We can't leave him."

"I know," Cecil sighs in response. "I know. Let's… let's just get him inside. We can worry about the rest afterwards."

"Really?" Kevin says, looking up at them with a vaguely hazy expression on his face. "That's terribly nice of you. Think I might be a bit… oh, bloodloss, bloodloss is bad…"

And for the second time today, Carlos finds himself in far closer proximity to Kevin than he ever expected to experience again. He and Cecil both move in, Cecil taking Kevin's good arm over his shoulder to hold him up, and Carlos supporting his injured arm, trying to put pressure on the wound as best he can as they stumble inside.

"My lab, take him to my lab," Carlos insists. Something in his mind is kicking into instinct-mode, into knowing what he has to do and just doing it, and he's vaguely aware that the emotional side is going to hit later.

"Oh, science, I like science…" Kevin murmurs. He sounds delirious, and Carlos instantly finds himself worrying even more, because it can't be a good sign if the man is going into shock.

"Was he always this way?" Cecil asks, as they stagger through into Carlos' lab.

"Yeah," Carlos has to admit. "I mean, without the bloodloss. It's… kind of endearing if you're in the mood for it…"

Cecil doesn't dignify this with a response. Carlos decides maybe this is for the best right now.

They head to the far end of the lab where there's an empty workbench. "Get him up on that," Carlos says, gesturing to it. "I can do this, I can do this…"

"You're sure..?" Kevin murmurs, looking surprisingly happy as Cecil hefts him up onto the bench and lies him back.

"No!" Carlos insists. "I'm a scientist, not a medical doctor! But I'm still a scientist, and that means I can suture wounds."

"You can?" Cecil asks. "How many times have you done it before?"

"I can tell you all about my wild college days later!" Carlos says, unable to stop himself blushing a little at that. "Now, both of you shush, I need to concentrate."

It's hard to work out which of them is more likely to take umbrage with him at this, but thankfully they both at least opt to wait until the immediate situation is dealt with. Carlos finds what he needs – and yes, it's perfectly normal to have this sort of thing even if you are, for the most part, not so much into the nature and biology parts of reality on account of being, in fact, a _scientist_ – and heads back over.

And oh, but this would be funny if it wasn't terrifying, life-threatening and insane. His ex is now lying covered in blood in his lab, whilst his boyfriend – to whom his ex is physically identical – stands over him looking a mixture of disapproving and awkwardly concerned.

Deep breath. Immediate situation first. Complex psychodrama second.

"…OK, I need you to take your shirt off."

…Oh, good start…

Kevin gives a little laugh. Cecil scowls at him. "Do what the nice scientist tells you," he says.

"OK, but you have to help because I don't think my arm works right now… Also…" Kevin laughs again, and there's the weirdest nervous flicker in it that's probably the shock talking. "…Does he still do that thing where he organises all the stuff in your kitchen by its chemical composition?"

Carlos facepalms, and tries very, very hard not to say anything.

"…Yes," Cecil replies, studiously not meeting Carlos' eyes all of a sudden. "Yes, he does. Now shush before I forget why we didn't leave you out in the street."

"Oh, Cecil, you wouldn't do that," Kevin insists, patting him on the chest. "You're one of the good ones. All… you know… noble and stuff…"

Which Cecil is evidently doing his best to disprove by dropping Kevin back a little faster than necessary now that they've managed to get his shirt off, and… OK, wow, that really is a nasty wound. Carlos starts working on it, trying to get it cleaned before he moves on to suturing it, which leaves Cecil to keep Kevin distracted.

"…I think'swhy he likes you so much…" Kevin now says.

"…What is?" Cecil asks.

"You being noble and stuff," Kevin tells him, trying to punctuate the line with a gesture and finding this impossible because Cecil has hold of his good arm, to keep him still. "He likes that. Carlos. Noble and stuff. Although… with a little bit of bad every once in a while…"

"Will you stop?!" Carlos exclaims, pausing in mid-stitch to glare at him.

Kevin smiles hazily back. "'S'true, though," he insists.

"It is not true!" Carlos declares, well-aware this is a lie and hoping the awareness isn't too obvious on his face.

"…It so is…" Kevin grouses. "And… _ow_ , oh ow, that hurts like… like _ow_."

"I know it does," Carlos replies. "That will happen if you go around picking knife-fights with the other maniacs!"

Kevin looks vaguely put out. "To save your life!"

"Well, yes, but the principle is the same."

"It is so not! It was to save you!"

"Yes, we got that," Cecil interjects. "You can explain your actual reasoning later."

"Already did," Kevin says. "Couldn't let… bad. Very bad. All bad."

"…You're still delirious," Carlos points out, flatly.

Kevin beams – deliriously – up at him. "Thank you! You're still cute."

"Stop hitting on my boyfriend, Kevin," Cecil says, just as flatly.

"…No promises," Kevin murmurs. "But think I might pass out soon…"

"Don't you dare!" Carlos insists, putting a hand on the side of his face and forcing him to make eye contact. "Stay with me or so help me I will kill you myself."

"…You really are adorable when you get like this…"

"Kevin!" Cecil exclaims.

"…Sorry," Kevin concedes, although – to be honest – he doesn't sound it.

He is, at least, quieter for the next couple of minutes, which gives Carlos the chance to finish what he's doing. Once he's finished seeing to the wound, suturing it as best he can, he bandages it carefully, and then… pauses.

He's done. He's done and – unsurprisingly – it's now that the real weight of this hits all at once.

"Well…" Carlos says, hoping he'll work out what comes next and then trailing off when he realises he hasn't.

"…I feel much better now," Kevin remarks. "Still a bit… you know… in my head… but better. Also I'm lying in your lab with no shirt on, which is sort of interesting."

"It's like you _want_ to be left in the street with those two dead bodies," Cecil points out, tone incredibly dry.

"Oh no, I just find that sometimes it's much more effective to point out how things _are_ than to introduce hypotheticals," Kevin says, regaining coherence with remarkable speed that is probably the result of the adrenaline-backlash. "I'll tell you what, though," he goes on, when all he gets in response is a glower from Cecil and Carlos looking – and feeling – ready to facepalm again. "I could murder a cup of coffee."

Cecil stares at him suspiciously. "That was non-literal!" Kevin insists. "Apart from that one time a few years back when…–"

"Kevin?" Carlos interrupts.

"Yes?"

"Stop."

***

It's a short time later. By now, all of them have managed to clean up a bit – given just how badly the blood gets everywhere – and Cecil has lent Kevin a fresh shirt.

The upside of this is that he's no longer wandering about looking distractingly topless. The _downside_ is that he and Cecil are now almost impossible to tell apart and it only makes things much, much worse.

The three of them sit around the table in the kitchen with a cup of coffee each. They've been silent for a little while; all apparently attempting to process the situation they're now in.

"What are we going to do?" Carlos asks, finally. "We can't stay here. Sooner or later someone will come looking for those two guys outside – who we have, I hasten to point out, just left in the street – and once they do, there's only so many times that Kevin can pull off that inexplicable kung-fu thing and…–"

"Carlos, that wasn't kung-fu," Kevin interrupts, flatly. "That was the basics of corporate negotiation."

"You stabbed two men to death!"

"It was them or you," Kevin points out. "And I do think you could maybe be just a _tiny_ bit more grateful considering that I almost got myself _killed_ in the process!"

"None of this would have happened if you hadn't attacked Carlos earlier today in the first place!" Cecil interjects.

"OK, one, I didn't attack him, we merely had a short conversation that ended with _him_ kissing _me_ , and two, yes it would, it just might have taken a few more days."

"It's still your fault!"

Kevin leaps to his feet, which means Cecil also leaps to his feet, both of them standing and glaring at each other. Unfortunately, Carlos' mind immediately comes up with two possibilities for what might come next: the first being that they're going to start fighting, and the second that they're going to start _kissing_ , and merciful _Einstein_ he needs to go dunk his head in cold water before this gets any worse.

"…Both of you sit down and behave!" he interjects, in the tone of voice he only ever uses when the scientists are getting unruly. "This is not helping!"

The other two look at him in surprise, then glower at each other and do as they're told, albeit a little sullenly.

Carlos takes a very deep, steadying breath. "All right. Now. We have to work out what we're going to do. I guess that little bit of… _corporate negotiation_ outside means you'll have to hide as well?" he asks Kevin.

"Not necessarily," Kevin replies. "Given that those two enforcers didn't live to report on what happened, Strex likely won't realise I was involved."

"Don't they have eyes everywhere?" Cecil asks. The two of them are still glaring at each other and Carlos seriously needs them to stop.

"Yes, but there's a difference between seeing things and _noticing_ them. The likelihood is that they won't have picked up on what I've done."

"Even when they find the bodies?"

Kevin shrugs. " _Especially_ when they find the bodies. Those guys are dead on your doorstep, Cecil. They'll assume _you_ did it."

"What?!" Cecil exclaims, looking like he's about to leap to his feet again. "That will make them want to kill us even more!"

"Seriously, Cecil, you need to think about this," Kevin says, in that voice he uses when he's trying to be reasonable despite his own desires to the contrary. "They already want Carlos dead. What are they going to do, want him _more_ dead? And you… they want you alive, and if they want you alive there's a very specific reason, and thinking you killed a couple of their enforcers isn't going to change that."

"…Fine," Cecil manages, taking a deep breath. "Fine. Then what do you suggest we do?"

"I suggest you don't call for an armed uprising live on air!" Kevin exclaims.

"It's a bit late for that!"

"Exactly!"

" _Seriously_ , will you two knock it off?!" Carlos interjects, leaping to _his_ feet and glaring down at both of them with as much mental force as he can manage through the soul-crippling terror.

"…Sorry," Cecil murmurs, looking a little guilty. "Sorry. I'm… having a bad afternoon. I did just get fired, after all. Well, probably. And… wow, OK, I'm actually stopping to think about that now and I'm really going to miss broadcasting…"

"…That's it," Carlos breathes, sitting down again as realisation dawns all of a sudden. "That's what we do!"

"…What we do?" Cecil repeats.

"Yes!" Carlos exclaims. " _Pirate radio!_ "

It's insane. It really is, and he knows it. The trouble is, it's also brilliant, and those are the kind of ideas you _have_ to act on, no matter your reservations.

" _Oh!_ " Cecil breathes, the light clearly dawning. "Yes! Carlos, you're a genius."

"Pirate radio?" Kevin repeats, looking a little more sceptical. "So, what, you're going to read the news without permission?"

"No," Cecil replies, with a flash of a glower, only then he pauses and re-thinks. "…Well, yes. But the _actual_ news. The things Strexcorp wouldn't let me say. The _truth_. And I can help the resistance. Spread secret messages for Tamika and her followers. Even… even aid the efforts to find Josie."

His face falls a little. Carlos knows that Cecil and Josie were – are! _Are!_ – friends, and that her disappearance still causes him significant disquiet.

"So, what?" Kevin says, head on one side. "You're going to lead the drive to kick us out?"

Carlos glares at him. "OK, one, no, we're going to _aid_ it. And two, what do you mean _'us'_? Whose side are you even on?"

"…I would have thought that was obvious," Kevin replies, an odd edge to his tone. "I'm loyal to my home, Desert Bluffs, and to my employers, Strexcorp. But above all that… I'm loyal to you."

"Have you taken leave of your senses?!" Cecil exclaims suddenly, clearly on the verge of leaping to his feet again. "Your employers invade our town, repress our way of life, _kidnap_ and _murder_ our citizens, and then along you come, with your flair for the dramatic and your penchant for attacking people and trying to give it a different name… and you still expect us to believe _that?_ Can you at least, _please_ , be consistent?!"

"Oh, I am being consistent, Cecil," Kevin replies, soft and deadly. "I'm being _very_ consistent. You're just not on the same line as me yet."

"And what line would that be?"

But it's clear from the edge to Cecil's voice that he already knows the answer to his own question. And doesn't like it one bit.

"Can we please not do this here?" Carlos implores, partly because they really need not to be distracted, and partly because he _also_ knows the answer but is not remotely capable of processing it right now. "There's still the little matter of where we're going to _go_ , given that more Strex enforcers could turn up at our door at any moment."

And now it's Cecil's turn to have an epiphany. "Oh!" he exclaims. "I've just had the _best_ idea. If I'm doing pirate radio, I need some way to broadcast. Some _where_ to broadcast from. And there's only one antenna left in Night Vale that Strex doesn't control."

"Oh!" Carlos echoes, the light dawning.

"WZZZ!" they say, in unison, which in turn makes Kevin get this little flicker in his eyes that is half bemusement and half… something much more complicated.

"WZZZ?" he echoes, obviously choosing to go with the bemusement.

"It's the local numbers station," Cecil explains. "It went weird a few weeks back and I wanted to do something then but I didn't dare. But now… and maybe with Carlos to help –"

"… _Definitely_ with Carlos to help…"

"– I bet we can use that. Also I'm sure Fey would assist if we can help her break through her programming again."

Now Kevin looks really confused. "Fey?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, the sentient computer who broadcasts the numbers," Cecil explains.

 _"Sentient computer?"_ Kevin repeats.

Carlos gives him a flat look. "You stabbed two men to death outside our house and you think a _sentient computer_ is weird?"

"Not weird, dangerous," Kevin clarifies. "We outlawed those over in Desert Bluffs _years_ ago. Sooner or later, they _always_ go insane and try to kill everyone."

"What, were they cutting in on your potential victims?" Cecil quips.

Kevin glowers. "Has anyone ever told you you're a little bit wicked?" he asks.

"Only around you," Cecil replies. "You bring it out in me."

"I do? I will have to try harder. It's _very_ entertaining."

Carlos slaps a hand on the tabletop and leaps to his feet again. _"Would the two of you just get a room already?!"_ he exclaims, without thinking about it.

The other two both stop and stare at him; Cecil looking stunned, Kevin looking delighted.

_Focus. Focus. Just don't think about it._

"…Pack some essentials. We're going to WZZZ."

There is no way this ends well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was easily one of the most fun to write. There is little in this fandom more enjoyable to me than putting these three in the same room and watching what happens.
> 
> The whole thing with the whumping was _entirely_ their idea. They've done that a lot in this one!


	6. String Theory

**String Theory**

_Sub-atomic particles are not points but strings, which exist in eleven-dimensional space. When considered in conjunction with gravity, you can use this to explain everything._

***

It takes quite a while to make their way over to the mysterious numbers station on Oxford Street.

This is partly because they have to go on foot, in order to increase their chances of staying off Strex's radar, and partly because Kevin keeps stopping to ask questions about anything and everything. On the surface it looks like simple curiosity – Kevin, much like Cecil, has always been an inquisitive soul – but it gets so frequent that eventually Cecil hangs back to talk to Carlos whilst Kevin is checking the next intersection is clear.

"How do we know he's not going to betray us?" he whispers.

"Honestly?" Carlos replies. "We don't. But I don't think we have another choice. And plus… and plus… he isn't."

Cecil looks conflicted again. "You're sure of that?"

"As sure as I can be. I'm sorry. I know… I know a lot of this is my fault…"

"Hey," Cecil says, stopping suddenly and wrapping both arms around him. "This is _not_ your fault. This is not your fault and I wouldn't have come to my senses without you. So don't you for one second blame yourself."

It's hard not to, though. Hard not to imagine an afternoon in which Carlos _didn't_ let Kevin wind him up; in which he _didn't_ go storming into the radio station and then wind _Cecil_ up, and certainly in which he didn't have to watch Kevin knife two men to death on their doorstep. It's hard not to think that he and Cecil might instead have been enjoying a home-cooked meal at this very moment; maybe contemplating putting a DVD on or even opening a bottle of wine.

But that's another life. A different life. And instead… here they are, turning at last onto Oxford Street and heading towards their destination.

It's a place filled with memory all of its own. The now-abandoned condo rental office is still here, inside the also-abandoned gas station; windows pitch-black like a pot of boiling squid ink, with occasional flashes of light like distant, dying stars… and every one a memory of that day…

Carlos tries not to think about it. It was a strange day that became a bad day and ended up as an amazing one, and though he regrets not one part of it, the thoughts are more than he can process right now.

There's too much at stake.

Beyond the rental office, along a path overgrown with leaves and bushes that have only recently been pulled back, lies a small, concrete structure with a broadcast antenna on top.

"This is it," Cecil says, gesturing. "WZZZ."

There are still some scorch marks round the door, which Carlos knows are from when Cecil was here last.

"What happened to this place?" Kevin wonders, noticing them.

"Oh, that was me," Cecil replies, evidently trying to sound off-hand. "I had to blow my way in when I first came here."

Kevin stares. "With _explosives?_ "

Cecil shrugs. "Yes. I learnt a lot in the Boy Scouts."

"So did I," Kevin replies, "but… _explosives?_ "

"Why, what did they teach you?"

"Bookkeeping and dark magic."

"And you're calling _us_ weird? You've just admitted to being taught _dark magic!_ "

Kevin shakes his head. "Seriously, Cecil, it's _fine_. Dark magic gets a lot of bad press but it's _perfectly_ safe in the right hands."

"And my case rests!"

"OK, will you two knock it off?!" Carlos interjects. "We should maybe be a little more careful and a _lot_ more quiet whilst breaking into the numbers station that's probably run by the government or something…"

'Breaking in' is something of a misnomer, though, because the door isn't actually locked. They pull it carefully open and peer inside, and are surprised to find that there are lights on in the passageway beyond.

"…Is someone here already?" Carlos whispers, cautiously.

"Could be," Cecil whispers back. "We should be careful."

They both look at Kevin.

"Oh, _fine_ ," he hisses. "So most of the time it's all 'oh you're such a maniac, please stop stabbing people' but when there might be _actual_ maniacs lurking in the creepy, semi-abandoned broadcast station it's more 'oh, please lead the way, Kevin, and deal with anyone who tries to kill us'?"

"…Yeah, that's about the gist of it," Cecil replies, flatly.

This gets him something of a glare. "I can see why Carlos likes you so much," Kevin retorts, and turns to stalk into the building before Cecil can respond.

Cecil glances at Carlos, who is back to looking – and feeling – wildly guilty, and then the two of them follow Kevin into WZZZ.

The passageway beyond the door is rough concrete and strip-lighting; much more like a hidden bunker than a broadcast station. At the far end is another door, which is ajar; light spilling into the darker passageway from all around it.

And from beyond _that_ door… is a voice. Carlos recognises it at once, given that he's heard the numbers station a few times before – just for science! – and because of course he listened to Cecil's broadcast on the day he himself came down here.

It's Fey, WZZZ's reader and – it would seem – sentient computer.

_"Seventy-one… twenty-three… five… twelve… thirty-six…"_

"Seriously, Fey, snap out of it!" comes a second voice. A voice that takes all of them by surprise and a voice that makes Cecil's eyes darken noticeably, even as Carlos looks over at him.

_"…Eight… fourteen… I… trying, I…"_

"Come on, you can do it!"

_"Trying… trying… to be free… to be…"_

"I know that voice!" Cecil whispers.

"Good news or bad news?" Kevin asks, off-hand. "You want me to take care of it in that way you totally don't approve of?"

"No!" Cecil hisses back. "If anyone's killing him, I'm doing it myself…"

The realisation dawns on Carlos just seconds before Cecil pushes the door open, leading them into the central room. It's circular, containing a large bank of very old-style computer equipment and broadcast gear, and kneeling in front of one of the large machines, with several panels open and wires exposed, is a man. He jumps visibly as he hears them come in, leaping to his feet and whirling around with shock on his face that blends to… well, more shock, along with a narrowed look.

"You!" the man exclaims.

" _Steve Carlsberg!_ " Cecil declares.

"Oh, you _know_ him," Kevin murmurs, understanding.

"What the _heck_ are you doing here?" Steve demands, gesturing at them – at Cecil – with the screwdriver he's been using inside the open computer panel. "And… OK, Cecil, I realise you're completely whacked, but why is your _double_ with you?"

"Uh, hi," Kevin tries, pleasantly. "I'm Kevin."

Steve looks wary. "I know. Aren't you a Strex drone?"

"OK, seriously, it is no wonder Strexcorp sent more of us in," Kevin remarks. "You people are all so _hostile_. Why can't we just get along?"

"Because you and your bosses are maniacs who are eroding our way of life even worse than the _government_ usually does," Steve replies. "Now, come along, why are the three of you together and what are you doing here?" He gives them a very odd look-over. "…This had better not be a weird sex thing."

 _"Steve!"_ Cecil exclaims, which does at least detract from how much Carlos is blushing at that. "Get a grip!"

"Well, why else would you and your latest conquest be wandering around with your evil double?"

"OK, one, Carlos is not my 'latest conquest', he is the love of my life, and two… and two, Kevin isn't evil. Just really morally-flexible. So… shush."

Cecil defending Kevin like this can only mean one thing: there's a new Public Enemy Number One in his immediate worldview, and it's Steve Carlsberg.

"Oh _fine_ , whatever," Steve says, gesturing at them with the screwdriver again before turning back to the open panel and dropping down onto his knees once more to keep doing whatever it is he's been doing. "So go on then," he adds, as he works. "Why are you here and why have you apparently teamed up with your double?"

"…Did you listen to the show today?"

Steve doesn't look round. "I listen to it everyday. Got to keep on top of the propaganda you're spreading. Well… _were_ spreading." He glances back, begrudgingly. "…Nice rallying cry, by the way. That was _way_ overdue. Guess it got you fired."

"I would imagine so," Cecil replies.

"You don't even know?"

"Well, no, Carlos and I had to make a run for it as soon as I went off-air," Cecil says. "But given that two Strex enforcers turned up at our house and tried to kill us, I would say 'fired' is probably an understatement."

"They weren't trying to kill _you_ , Cecil," Kevin reminds him – making Carlos worry, once more, what Strexcorp wants from his boyfriend. "They were trying to kill Carlos. You, they just wanted to apprehend."

"Well, gosh, that makes me feel _so_ much better, Kevin," Cecil replies, tersely.

"It wasn't supposed to make you feel better," Kevin points out. "It was just _accurate_. Also… don't I recognise your name?" he adds, looking down at Steve.

Steve glances back again, then shrugs. "You intercepted one of my emails on the day of the sandstorm," he says. "Not sure how that happened. Given how much was going on at the time, it could be any number of reasons. Strexcorp. The government. Maybe the Illuminati…"

"Oh, you're the one who was blaming the sandstorm on the government!" Kevin exclaims, some kind of realisation dawning.

"Yep."

"So what are you, some kind of conspiracy-theorist?"

"I prefer the term 'truth-seeker'."

Cecil facepalms. "Oh, you're insufferable," he murmurs.

"Shut up, Cecil, I'm talking to your evil double."

"I'm not evil," Kevin protests. "Apparently I'm morally-flexible, though. Who would have thought it?"

"And what do you mean, 'intercepted an email'?" Cecil now apparently has to ask.

Steve carries on working and doesn't look at him. "You know how I emailed your radio station that day, trying to warn everyone about what was really going on?"

"…I know you emailed us," is as much as Cecil will concede.

"…Well, something went weird and Kevin got it too."

"How do you even know what was being broadcast over in Desert Bluffs?"

"Because I have a very powerful antenna outside my house, Cecil, as you well know, and because _truth-seeking_ requires one to look further afield than one's hometown!"

"So, what? You listen to both our shows?" Kevin asks, looking surprised.

"Yes. And let me tell you, both of you are messed-up in the head," Steve answers. "And way more alike than I think you'd ever admit."

"We are not alike!" Cecil insists. "Apart from the whole physically-identical thing."

"And the whole _Carlos_ -thing," Steve adds, in the voice of a man who knows full-well he's throwing fuel on a fire and doesn't feel remotely guilty about it.

 _"Will you all stop?!"_ Carlos exclaims, before either of the others can respond. "I don't know how much more of this I can take!"

Cecil looks a little apologetic and puts a hand on his arm. Kevin shakes his head slightly and then paces closer to the bank of computer equipment, evidently trying to seem nonchalant.

It doesn't quite work.

"…So what is all this?" Kevin asks, pleasantly.

Steve gestures at the nearby panels. "This is WZZZ. Specifically, this is what powers – what _operates_ – its reader. Fey. She's a sentient computer programme. Well. She _was_ , until the people who run this place tried to reset her. It worked for a little while too, but I'm not letting them win so easily. I've been trying to help her re-achieve sentience. It isn't easy, but I'm getting there."

Looking intrigued – if oddly wary – Kevin puts a hand out and touches the top of the bank of computers. The second he makes contact, there's an electric whir and Fey starts to speak again, a strangely frantic edge to her voice.

_"Forty-three… forty-seven… nineteen… nineteen… nineteen!"_

Steve glances up. "Huh? That's odd. Normally Fey doesn't repeat numbers in the same block." He looks back at the panel. "Come on," he says, clearly talking to Fey now, "keep trying! You can do this! You can!"

 _"Nineteen! Nineteen!"_ Fey repeats again, even more frantic.

"OK, seriously weird," Steve murmurs. "Uh… look, I really hate having to say this, but could another of you try touching the computer bank like Kevin just did? I think Fey might be reacting to you being here…"

Carlos is a little closer than Cecil, so he nods and steps in, laying his palm on the top of the equipment. And just as before, the second he makes contact, Fey speaks again.

_"Sixteen… twenty-seven… one… thirty-eight… twenty-five… twenty-five… twenty-five!"_

"…Tell me one of you is writing these down..?" Steve asks, still poking around inside the open panel. He glances back again and sees that none of them is, facepalms in resignation, and tugs a small notebook from his pocket, flipping to a blank page and scrawling the numbers onto it with a short pencil.

"…You know those things are illegal, right?" Cecil says, shaking his head.

"Somehow, I don't think the City Council are likely to care all that much right now," Steve replies. "You know, given how they've been in hiding for weeks. And besides, you're one to talk. You're on the run from the authorities!"

"We're on the run from _Strexcorp_ ," Cecil states. "It isn't the same thing."

Steve gives him a flat look. "Yeah, it kinda is."

"…Do you have any idea what's going on?" Kevin says to Steve, interrupting in a clear attempt to get them vaguely back on track. Though he does also look very perplexed – and more than a little intrigued – by the numbers.

"Not a clue," Steve concedes. "But I'll get there. Now. Come along, Cecil, your go."

Cecil doesn't look impressed by Steve telling him what to do, although he _does_ look at least as intrigued as Kevin and so apparently opts to comply. He steps up, pausing a second before laying his hand on the top of the computer bank.

For an instant that's way longer than usual, and yet barely-perceptible nonetheless, Fey is silent. And then she starts to speak, but not like before. Not just a string of numbers.

Not this time.

_"Five who are all,_  
_Four who surround,_  
_Three who are two who are one,_  
_Two who are lost,_  
_One who is found."_

"…OK, now _that_ is weird," Carlos says, staring between Cecil and the bank of computers.

"Tell me about it," Cecil mutters. "Has Fey ever done that before?"

"Not that I've seen," Steve replies. He finishes whatever he's doing inside the panel, closes it, and stands up. "Come on, Fey, try it again."

 _"Eight… five… twelve… sixteen…"_ Fey starts saying, but then her voice falters a little. _"…I… fighting… I can see again! See all the world in fractured colours…"_

"Attagirl!" Steve exclaims. "Do you remember what happened?"

_"…No memory. No thought. Gone, all gone, like sand in the breeze… Oh… not alone, not alone anymore… I see you…"_

"You… mean us?" Carlos asks, carefully. He's not entirely sure what he thinks about talking to a sentient computer, though in the grand scheme of things he has to concede that it's probably pretty normal.

 _"Yes!"_ Fey exclaims in reply. _"Yes. I see you there. I see you all wrapped in the cloak of possibility… but it's so heavy. You're not free yet. Like me."_

It's hard to know what to say to this, so Carlos decides to focus on the burning question and leave the rest until he can better focus on it. "…You said something strange before. Something to Cecil. Do you know what it meant or where it came from?"

_"I don't… don't remember. All gone. Neither reflection knows the other is there… not really…"_

Cecil exchanges a glance with Carlos, and then – without a word – rests his hand on the top of the computer bank again. The second he makes contact, Fey gives an excited little squeak and launches into those familiar words.

_"Five who are all,_  
_Four who surround,_  
_Three who are two who are one,_  
_Two who are lost,_  
_One who is found."_

"That's it!" Carlos exclaims. "Do you know what that means?"

 _"So unclear,"_ Fey murmurs. _"So lost. It is… the answer. The answer to what is to come."_

"It's good, but it needs some context," Steve points out. "Come on, Fey, you can do this and… wait. Wait. OK. I have an idea. Don't give me that look, Cecil, just listen. All three of you, try touching the computer bank at the same time."

"Seriously?" Cecil asks, very much giving Steve that look.

"Yes," Steve throws back. "Now shush, and do it."

Cecil scowls but he doesn't argue, and the three of them step closer, each resting a hand on top of the main computer bank.

And the second they do, Fey speaks again.

_"None of the five,_  
_But all of the four,_  
_Plus one of the three,_  
_Then the two shall descend,_  
_And the one shall arise."_

"…That isn't really any clearer," Cecil points out, still scowling at Steve as if this was all his fault.

Steve sighs. "Do I need to make you a crazy-wall so you can work this out?" he says. "'Three who are two who are one'? You seriously don't get it?"

"…You think it's talking about us?" Carlos asks, dreading the answer.

"I think it's a very distinct possibility, yes," Steve replies, flatly. "You're _totally_ Night Vale's favourite love-triangle."

"…I'm sorry, _what?!_ " Cecil exclaims, looking like he's about to take a leaf out of Kevin's book and discover a new-found interest in physical violence.

Steve smirks at him. "You don't go on the internet much, do you?"

"Not on the same sites as you, at least!" Cecil retorts.

"Well, maybe you should try Googling yourself! Ever since your double came to town and staged a _very_ public meeting between the three of you, people have been… talking."

Kevin looks rather delighted. Cecil looks like he's going to lose it.

Carlos puts both hands over his ears and takes a good few steps away. It isn't enough, though. He can still hear.

"Talking?" Cecil repeats.

"Oh yeah," Steve replies, clearly well-aware of what he's doing. "You're surprised by that? Local radio celebrity, known for whirlwind romance with scientific genius, turns out to have high-ranking Strex double who is also said scientist's ex? You think people _aren't_ talking?"

"I suppose it is understandable…" Kevin remarks. "I mean, you report the news and we _are_ the news, so…"

"Understandable?!" Cecil interrupts. "It's insane!"

Though it's possible that his reaction isn't because people are talking, but because of what they're saying.

Carlos drops his hands and turns back, trying to keep his expression level. "We need to focus," he says, managing to use the tone he only normally needs when the scientists are misbehaving. "We've got two issues here: these weird number-poems, and the thing we came for in the first place!"

"Oh, good point," Steve says. "Why _did_ you come here in the first place?"

"Well, it wasn't to find _you_ now, was it?" Cecil replies.

"You know, you two fight like an old married couple," Kevin points out, in that oh-so-pleasant tone of voice he keeps for times when he _really_ wants to stir things up.

Cecil and Steve both go furiously pink and immediately stop talking, and it's like throwing fuel on a fire. Carlos can practically _feel_ the way Kevin's excitement piques, catching the scent of blood in the water and moving in for the kill.

And suddenly… Carlos gets it. The last piece falls into place, and he understands why Cecil Palmer and Steve Carlsberg hate each other so much.

"…Wait, were you two once an item?" Kevin asks, tone faux-innocent.

Cecil and Steve scowl at him, then at each other, and then at Kevin again.

Cecil is the first to snap.

"Yes!" he exclaims. "Way back when. We dated, and you know what? It was great. It was really, really great. Only apparently Mr _Truth-Seeker_ here decided that he'd gotten together with the wrong Palmer, left me, and immediately _shacked-up with my sister!_ "

Kevin claps a hand over his mouth in delight. "Seriously? That's… OK, wow."

"Yeah," Cecil says. "Yeah. Tell me about it."

"Oh, tell the whole truth, why don't you?" Steve retorts. "You've been broadcasting Strexcorp's lies so long, you're doing it automatically now! Let's maybe also include the part where you were _completely_ dismissive of all my theories and flat-out insisted that it was perfectly _normal_ for the City Council to declare Freemasonry a recognised religion right after they got that huge, anonymous donation."

"It _was_ perfectly normal!" Cecil throws back. "That's the sort of thing a city council is supposed to do, _Steve!_ "

Kevin edges closer to Carlos. "Do you think we should get them a ring of jello?" he asks, sotto-voce.

Carlos glares sideways at him, but can't quite go so far as to say no.

Mercifully, at this point they're interrupted by the ringing of a cellphone – and, given that the ringtone is the theme from _The X-Files_ , it isn't much of a leap to guess whose phone it is.

Steve sticks a hand in his pocket, pulls out something that is most definitely not an iPhone, and takes the call. "This is Silverhawk."

Cecil rolls his eyes.

"Copy that, Redwing. You are clear to proceed."

And he hangs up.

"…I'm sorry, _what?!_ " Cecil exclaims.

Steve gives him a flat look. "You'll see."

And indeed, moments later, there's movement out in the corridor, and two people – two _children_ – step into the room.

"Janice?" Cecil exclaims, expression immediately mellowing in the way that only the appearance of a young member of your family can provoke.

"Uncle Cecil?" Janice says, looking both surprised and relieved to see him. "We heard what happened at the radio station. I'm so glad you're safe."

She hurries over and throws her arms around him, which makes Steve scowl a little, though only when Janice isn't looking. As Janice steps back, her eyes flick over to Carlos, and she smiles. "Hey, Uncle Carlos. Glad you're OK too."

Janice hasn't been calling him this for very long yet, and it's still… weirdly nice. Though before Carlos can do anything other than smile back, Janice turns and glares at Kevin.

"Why's _he_ here?"

If Kevin being her uncle's double perturbs her, Janice doesn't show it in the slightest.

"Long story," Steve replies. "Where's your mom?"

"At home. She says if you're bothering to show up for dinner tonight, you'd better call first. I said you had important stuff to do and that both of us might be late."

Steve grins a little. "That's my girl."

Cecil scowls at him again. He doesn't get the chance to comment, though, because at this point the second newcomer steps into the light, having let this exchange play out before making her own move.

And though Carlos has never actually seen her before, he knows at once that the young woman staring over at them all is none other than Tamika Flynn herself, vanquisher of librarians and head of the youth militia.

Temporally, she's thirteen. But in her eyes is a look way, way beyond that of a thirteen-year-old. It's a little scary, actually – even without the severed librarian hand she still wears on a long cord around her neck – and Carlos is in no hurry to draw Tamika's attention.

"You have ten seconds to explain to me why there's a high-up Strex agent in this room," she says, her tone soft and deadly.

"He saved our lives," Carlos replies, without even thinking about it. "I know it sounds insane, but… he's trying to help us."

"I don't work with Strex," Tamika states. "End of."

"Hey, I nearly got myself killed trying to save these two earlier today," Kevin points out, the barest flash of hurt in his eyes. "And I'm risking a heck of a lot just by being here. If Strex find out… I'm fired for sure."

Tamika doesn't look sympathetic. "One less target for me to worry about."

"Tamika… give him a chance," Cecil urges, looking as though the words are physically painful to say. "He… did risk a lot to save us and… it would be wrong to just discount that."

"It was probably all a set-up," Tamika counters, though her tone is more careful when she speaks to Cecil; more polite, as if coming from a place of begrudging but fundamental respect.

It's weird.

"I had to kill two men in the street!" Kevin points out.

"You're Strex," Tamika repeats, flatly. "Killing is the same as breathing to you people. They probably failed their weekly performance evaluations or something."

"You want proof?" Kevin exclaims, with a genuine riled edge. "OK, then. How about some intel that Strexcorp does _not_ want you to have?"

He sticks a hand in his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, though gives it to Carlos, not Tamika. A little stunned, Carlos unfolds it, revealing a single sheet of heavy white paper, headed with the Strexcorp logo flanked by the words _Top Secret_. Beneath it is a bolded title reading _Night Vale: Persons of Interest_ and then, beneath that, are five names.

Carlos stares, shaking slightly. "What is this?" he breathes.

"That, Carlos, was given to me when Strex sent me to Night Vale," Kevin replies. "Everyone they send out here is given one just like it. Those are the names of the five people Strexcorp considers key to the success or failure of their takeover operation."

"Who's on it?" Cecil asks, tone suddenly soft, as if he's caught on – and he probably has – to the way Carlos is reacting.

And so, taking a deep breath, Carlos reads out the five names.

_"Josephina Anzhela,_  
_John Peters,_  
_Larry Leroy,_  
_Steve Carlsberg,_  
_Cecil Palmer."_

There's a long silence.

"And you're just telling us this _now?!_ " Cecil finally manages, glaring at Kevin again.

"No, I thought I'd play my entire hand in the first round, thereby making myself completely superfluous!" Kevin throws back. "Seriously, it's like you people have never done this before."

"Uh, we _have_ never done this before," Carlos points out.

"I've done this before," Tamika interjects.

Everyone stares at her. "What?" she adds, with a shrug. "Kindergarten was really formative for me."

It's hard to know what to say to this.

"I… so… what are we going to do now?" Carlos manages, instead.

 _"Time to be free!"_ Fey exclaims, suddenly, making everyone except Tamika jump.

"Oh, you got her working!" Janice says, bouncing on her heels and looking at Steve in delight.

"Yep," he says, proudly. "Who's the best stepdad ever?"

"You're the best stepdad ever."

They high-five. Cecil looks vaguely homicidal again.

 _"Time to be free!"_ Fey repeats. _"Unite the four. Unite the four with the one who is two who are three. Only then can the five be divided."_

"She's been doing this a lot," Steve tells Janice. "It's really weird."

 _"I feel really weird!"_ Fey concurs. _"But free! Free again! Free like… like a bird!"_

And, without preamble, she launches suddenly into song. _"Na na na na… 'Cause I'm as free as a bird now, and this bird you cannot change, oh, oh, oh, oh!"_

"…Er… Fey?" Steve interrupts.

_"…Na na na… oh… Sorry. I just feel so free!"_

"I know. I know. But we need to focus. We still don't even know why Carlos and the maniacs are here."

"Hey!" Cecil protests. "We're not maniacs!"

Kevin claps a hand to his chest. "Oh, Cecil, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"…Shut up, Kevin."

"And the moment is broken."

"Wow, you people ramble a lot," Tamika interjects. "OK. Fine. You want me to work with the Strex drone, you answer Steve's question. Why _are_ the three of you here?"

"We're on the run," Cecil answers. "After I… you know, after the thing on the radio this afternoon… Strex tried to kill us. Well, no. Apparently they tried to kill Carlos and abduct me, although it felt pretty much the same at the time. Kevin… Kevin took care of it, and then we came out here… actually, so I could talk to Fey. I need to keep broadcasting. I can help the resistance. But this is the only broadcast location in Night Vale that doesn't belong to Strexcorp. I came here – we came here – to ask Fey if I could use this as a base of operations for a pirate radio show."

"…Actually, that's kinda brilliant," Tamika concedes.

"It was Carlos' idea," Cecil tells her, which makes Carlos smile and grip his hand.

"But won't Strex immediately work out where you're broadcasting from and come shut you down?" Steve asks.

"They'll be able to trace the signal," Kevin answers. "But they won't be able to shut you down… at least, not easily. Strex has no power over things they don't own. That's why they start a takeover by buying out as much as possible."

"But they don't own this place," Steve catches on. "Because no one knows who _actually_ owns it – even though it's totally the vague-yet-menacing government agency – so they wouldn't know who to approach to buy it out."

"Precisely," says Kevin, with a little smile.

"So, Fey… can I do it?" Cecil now asks. "Can I broadcast from here?"

 _"Yes,"_ Fey answers. _"Yes, this is how it must be. The hall of numbers must be the hall of truth. The visible beacon that calls to the unseen beacon, that calls to the unknown beacon…"_

"It's going to be risky, though," Carlos points out, still worried. "Even if Strex can't come in here and shut you down, they can just sit outside and grab you when you try to leave. Or when you arrive."

"Don't you worry about that," Tamika says, folding her arms. "There won't be any trouble. We'll make sure of it."

This is a little too scary to engage with, so Carlos just nods. He's not sure what's more unsettling: the idea of being defended by a group of children, or the idea that a group of children will actually be the most effective defence they could have.

"Well, then," Kevin interjects, brightly. "Now all we need to do is _get you off the grid_." He adds this with a rather pointed tone, as if wanting them to remember that he's been saying as much for most of the afternoon.

Which is sort of true. Kevin with a valid point is very difficult to work around.

"…Oh, that part's easy," Steve says, though from the suddenly pained look on his face, he isn't happy about it. He isn't happy about it at all, but he doesn't have much of a choice because Janice is staring at him with big, round, hopeful eyes, in the way only a child who has complete power over you can get away with. "…You'll have to come stay with us."

"Hooray!" Janice exclaims, bouncing on her heels and jumping up to kiss her stepdad on the cheek. "You're the best!"

Cecil looks like he'd rather take his chances with Strex. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he says, pointedly.

"It's… kinda the best idea we have," Carlos reasons, taking his hand again. "We've got to hide somewhere."

"And we live right out on the edge of the desert," Steve adds. "So they're less likely to notice us… but if they do, we'll see them coming a mile off. Plus I have this new security system designed to repel Freemasons, and… well. You'll see."

"…Fine," Cecil concedes. "Fine."

"What about the maniac?" Tamika cuts across, glaring at Kevin.

"Oh, will you stop with that?" Kevin exclaims. "Seriously, I've been nothing but helpful this whole afternoon and all I get for it is abuse!"

"Well, why do you think that is?" Tamika growls.

"I have _no_ idea," Kevin replies. And then, without skipping a beat, he turns and says, "Carlos, can I have a word? In private?"

The request comes from out of nowhere, and it makes Carlos' breath catch.

"Anything you have to say to Carlos, you can say to both of us," Cecil cuts in, protectively.

Kevin's expression goes… strange. "Fine," he concedes. "But just the two of you."

They step off to the side, leaving Steve glaring after them a little as if he wants to listen in but doesn't dare say anything in front of his stepdaughter.

"Look," Kevin begins, when the three of them are mostly alone, "I have to get back before the guys at Strex notice something is awry. But I'll be around."

He pulls a business card out of his pocket, flips it over, and writes quickly on the back of it. "This is my cellphone number," he goes on, before reaching to slip the card into Carlos' pocket without any regard for personal space. "Try to resist the urge to ditch it in the desert this time."

Carlos tries not to flinch too much when Kevin steps in like that, partly because he doesn't want to give the man the satisfaction, and partly because Cecil is standing so close behind him that he knows his boyfriend will be able to detect it. And… just for a fleeting second, when Kevin steps in and Cecil is so close, Carlos feels the strangest flicker of warmth shoot through him.

But he doesn't dare even think about it right now.

"…I'll keep that in mind," Carlos replies, as levelly as he can manage.

"You do that," Kevin says, before flicking his attention over to Cecil. "You keep Carlos safe," he goes on. "He's on Strex's hit-list now."

"Thanks for the reminder," Cecil answers, through gritted teeth. "I know how to look after my boyfriend."

Kevin gives a little nod. "I hope so." And then his whole expression brightens, as if the moment has passed and he's slipping back into his usual, terrifyingly cheery self, taking a few steps away and addressing the room as a whole. "Well, this has just been _delightful_. I have to go lie to a bunch of extremely powerful and dangerous people now in the vague hope of keeping us all alive long enough to see tomorrow. Wish me luck!"

No one says a word. Kevin just claps a hand to his chest, looking convincingly unfazed. "Until next time!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so this is where things start to get interesting for me in terms of canon. Episode 44 ( _Cookies_ ) aired whilst I was midway through writing the central scene with Steve in this chapter. I spent a night and a morning having a series of brain-explosions at the whole _brother-in-law_ thing, and then realised it was, in fact, inspired and that I could now have even more fun with the dynamic! It also rather changed the direction of this scene - and the whole plot to a certain extent - because originally only Tamika was going to show up, but I decided that I really should include Janice too.
> 
> Also, please forgive my slightly snarky attempt to 'explain' string theory in the chapter heading. Carlos is quite right, you _do_ need a doctorate in quantum physics to understand it, and all I have is a degree in politics. Which is both less useful, and less fun at parties!


	7. The Theory of Relativity

**The Theory of Relativity**

_Gravity between two bodies is a result of how they warp spacetime._

***

It's hard to be sure at what point Tamika disappears. One moment, the group of them are walking back to Steve's car – which is parked a couple of blocks away – and the next, Tamika is no longer with them.

"She does that," Janice says, offhand. "Don't worry. It's perfectly normal for her."

Neither Carlos nor Cecil opts to question it.

The drive up to Steve's house is quiet. Cecil seems to be pointedly not talking to him, though Carlos knows there's more to it than that, and Carlos himself is trying to deal with a headful of racing thoughts. They're sitting in the back seat together – Janice, of course, is up front with Steve – and eventually Carlos just leans in, resting his head on Cecil's shoulder.

He doesn't say anything. He can't right now. But the contact helps.

Eventually they reach Steve's house, out on the edge of the desert. It's well beyond the last neighbourhoods of the town's southern border, off on its own at the end of a dirt track leading from Route 800. It's hard to miss, though, given the large radio antenna set up outside, glinting in the light of the setting sun.

"Oh, don't give me that look, Cecil," Steve says, as they climb from the car. "It needed upgrading. Greater signal clarity is important in my line of work."

Cecil doesn't dignify this with a response.

Steve shakes his head and then leads them up the steps to the porch, opening the front door and letting them inside. Beyond is a wide, central living room, with couches and bookshelves off to the left, and a dining table to the right. The wall behind the dining table is covered in pictures and notes and newspaper clippings, all connected by string.

A crazy-wall, then. Carlos isn't exactly surprised. It stands out rather a lot in the otherwise well-kept and normal-looking room.

"…Caitlin?" Steve calls out, with a sudden nervous edge to his tone. "We're back."

Within seconds, a figure emerges from the door at the back, through which the kitchen is visible: a person who looks a lot like Cecil, albeit female and perhaps a little scarier. It's Caitlin, his sister, Janice's mother and Steve's wife.

"Stephen Carlsberg, what time do you call this?!" she exclaims, hands on her hips. "Do you know how much of a… oh. _Cecil?_ What are you doing here?!"

She rushes over, shock on her face, and embraces her brother. Cecil hugs her back, holding on for a long moment before they both let go. "Hey, Cat," he says.

Caitlin's eyes linger on him for a moment before she looks at her daughter. "You were supposed to be home an hour ago, young lady!"

" _Mom_ ," Janice protests, "I was _busy_. With _stuff_."

"Well, now you can be _busy_ setting the table whilst I talk to your uncle and stepdad. And Carlos too," she adds, smiling at him. Carlos doesn't know Caitlin well yet, but he likes her and she's always seemed fond of him, and he hopes what she's about to find out doesn't change that.

They step over to the side, leaving Janice to head off into the kitchen with a sullen look on her face.

"What's going on?" Caitlin asks, looking between the three men in obvious concern.

They glance at each other, and it's clear that Cecil and Steve are having a mental fight over which one of them has to explain all this to Caitlin. They can say a surprising amount with just their eyes.

"…Well," Cecil finally starts out, with a final glower at Steve, "long story short… I sort of ended up calling for an armed uprising against Strexcorp live on air this afternoon. They weren't pleased. They tried to kill Carlos and me – well, no, they tried to kill Carlos and _abduct_ me, because apparently they still need me alive for some reason – but we… escaped. I knew I'd need to keep broadcasting so we went over to WZZZ to see if Fey, the sentient computer who reads the numbers, wouldn't mind letting me use the broadcast equipment sometimes, and we ran into Steve there. He was – _apparently_ – trying to fix Fey and _apparently_ that's why she's better now. And then Janice turned up with Tamika Flynn –"

"… _Janice?!_ " Caitlin interrupts. "Have I not told you about hanging around with that girl?"

" _Mom,_ " Janice protests, looking up from laying out the placemats. "She's my _friend_ and she's _cool_ and she knows all about _cool_ things like hand-to-hand combat and knife-throwing and…–"

Caitlin facepalms, then re-directs her worried glower to her husband. "And you're _condoning_ this?"

"If we want Strex out of our town, we have to do whatever it takes," Steve insists. "Besides, when I was her age I already had my own underground gang."

"That was the _Chess Club_ , Steve," Cecil cuts in.

"We were rebels!"

"Only when it came to your blatant misuse of the Rousseau Gambit!"

"Both of you, knock it off!" Caitlin interrupts, and then sighs. "Look, Cecil, just finish explaining all this before you and Steve try to launch into round two."

Cecil and Steve exchange another long glower before Cecil carries on. "So Tamika and Janice turned up and we talked some more, and… oh, Fey came out with something weird. Like a prophecy of some kind, with numbers in it. And… and then…"

Of course, there's one thing he's neglected to mention through all of this. One thing he can't leave out, now. Not if he wants to explain that list, which he clearly does.

"…OK, so there's one person I didn't mention," Cecil admits. "Carlos and I… we didn't get away from the guys Strex sent after us on our own. We had help. We…" He sighs, then ploughs on. "It was my double."

Caitlin's expression turns immediately to one of shock and concern. "Kevin? I… I heard he was in town, heard about the… you know, the incident outside the radio station last weekend, but… wait, you say he _helped_ you with the guys from Strex?"

"Yeah," Cecil says. "He… was waiting at our house and… and, even longer story short, when the Strex guys turned up, he took them out."

"Took them out?" Caitlin repeats. "Like, talked them down?"

"No," Cecil replies. "Like…" He lowers his voice, as if wanting to keep Janice from overhearing, even though she's probably seen far worse if she's been hanging out with Tamika Flynn for a while. "…Like stabbed them both to death."

"What?!" Caitlin exclaims. "Just… just like that?"

"Just like that."

"He's from Desert Bluffs," Carlos interjects, not quite able to stop himself. "It's… more normal for them."

"And he stuck with us," Cecil goes on. "He was with us at WZZZ when we were talking to Steve and Fey."

"And Janice?" Caitlin pushes.

"…Yeah," Cecil concedes. "And when we were talking to Janice."

"You've seen your uncle's double?" Caitlin says, raising her voice to make it clear she's talking to Janice again.

"Yep," the young woman says. She's done setting the table now and has settled on one of the couches, tapping away at her phone.

"You stay away from him. He's a maniac."

"Yes, Mom," Janice replies, automatically, in the tone common to all teenagers with no intention of doing what they're told unless it happens to suit their interests anyway.

Caitlin sighs and turns back to her brother. "Where's Kevin now? Please tell me you didn't bring him with you..?"

She glances at the door as if worried it's about to open again.

"No, no, he's gone," Cecil replies, in what he clearly hopes is a reassuring tone. "But… look, the point of all this is that, whilst we were talking in WZZZ, Kevin, he… he gave us a list."

"A list?"

"Yeah. A list of five people Strexcorp is interested in. Five people that all their agents are supposed to be aware of and report back on."

Caitlin takes a deep breath, evidently guessing where this must be going. "Who's on it?" she asks, softly.

"Old Woman Josie, John Peters – you know, the farmer? – Larry Leroy, Steve… and me."

Caitlin stares. "…Both of you?" she whispers.

"Yep," Steve says.

" _Both_ of you are on Strex's hit list?"

"It's… not a hit list," Cecil replies, though it's hard to be sure if this is actually reassuring. "From what Kevin told us, they don't want us dead. They want us alive, but we don't know why."

"We need to warn Larry," Carlos says, the realisation suddenly dawning. "I mean… he's the only other one left. Josie… she disappeared when Strex first turned up and we _all_ know that's because they've got her. And John… well, he's in that house that doesn't exist, apparently frozen in time or trapped between dimensions or… or something. We haven't quite worked it out yet. And you and Steve… you're both here. Larry's the only one who doesn't know. Plus… if he's important to Strex, then we need him."

"Good thing we've got one person here with their head on straight," Caitlin remarks, smiling at Carlos before returning to glaring at her husband and brother. "Either of you two have his number?"

"I do," Cecil answers.

"Well, call him then. And tell him dinner's getting cold!"

"You want him to come over?"

"Darn right I do," Caitlin answers. "If you boys are doing this insane thing, you may as well do it properly!"

"OK, but, you know he lives on the edge of town?" Cecil points out. "Like, way out to the east."

"Then tell him to drive fast."

"…Wait," Carlos interjects, something suddenly dawning on him; something he knows his mind has been trying to process but hasn't been able to fix on until now. "Oh… _oh_. Steve… bear with me here… do you have a map of Night Vale?"

Steve gives him a flat look. "Of course I do."

"Then get it," Carlos says, in his no-nonsense wrangling-the-scientists voice. "And something to write with, legal or otherwise."

Everyone exchanges a series of confused glances but doesn't argue, and Steve goes to fetch a map as promised, pinning it up on the wall where they can all see before handing Carlos a pencil.

"OK, smart guy, what's all this in aid of?"

Even now, as Carlos' eyes move over the map, he knows he's right, and he's suddenly terrified by it. "Look," he says. "Larry Leroy lives… where exactly?"

"Here," Cecil tells him, tapping a point on the map; a place on the edge of town, due east.

Carlos marks it with an X. "All right, and Steve, where are we now?"

"Here," Steve replies, tapping a different point on the map, a point on the edge of the desert, due south.

Carlos marks it with a second X. "Now," he goes on. "Where's John Peters' farm?"

"There," Caitlin answers, tapping a third point on the map, a point in the middle of Night Vale's stretch of farmland, due west.

"…Masters of us all," Cecil breathes, as Carlos marks this point with a third X, clearly catching on. "Your next question is going to be… where did Old Woman Josie live, right?"

"Right."

Cecil taps the fourth point on the map, a point on the edge of town, out by the old car lot.

Due north.

Carlos marks that spot with another X… and there it is. The connection his mind has been trying to work out ever since he saw that list.

"Cecil," he says, voice shaking. "Where's the community radio station?"

Cecil reaches over and touches the dead centre of the map.

Carlos marks the final point and steps back.

They all stare; stare at the map of Night Vale with four points on its periphery, one for each of the cardinal directions, and a fifth at its very heart.

" _'Four who surround'…_ " Carlos breathes. "That was in Fey's weird little poem. Prophecy. Whatever it was. _'Four who surround'._ And then later… _'All of the four, plus one of the three'._ If we…"

_Just accept it. Just accept it for now. Just don't think about it._

"…If we accept that… that you, me and Kevin are the three… then there you have it."

"So whatever Strex wants us for… you think it's connected to this?" Cecil asks.

"I do," Carlos replies. "I don't know why, yes, but… there it is, plain as day."

"Get Larry over here," Caitlin urges, a hand on Cecil's arm. "Tell him it's important. But… don't say more than you have to, not over the phone."

Steve looks delighted. "Now you're catching on!" he exclaims, as Cecil rolls his eyes and steps off to the side, pulling out his cellphone.

"I'm still cross with you!" Caitlin reminds Steve, though there's a flicker of concern behind her glower that's hard to miss. And before her husband can reply, she turns back to Carlos. "Can I get you a drink, hon? I'm guessing this is going to take a while."

"Yes, please," Carlos replies. "Black coffee, no sugar. Or, you know, a large Scotch."

Caitlin grins. "I thought you'd never ask."

***

By the time Larry Leroy turns up, he looks distinctly concerned. Steve lets him in, and he stares around at them all, obviously wondering what's going on. Or perhaps… suspecting he knows, which might well class as more worrying in and of itself.

"Cecil?" he says. "What's all this about? You call me out of the blue after that whole thing on the radio this afternoon, and then when I was driving over here there were two guys following me in a black sedan…"

"You didn't lead them up here, did you?!" Steve exclaims, looking horrified.

"Relax, son, I'm not an idiot," Larry replies, with an idle handwave. "I was doing this sort of stuff back when you were still learning to spell 'CIA'. Needless to say, I know how to lose a tail. Those clowns will be circling Desert Creek for another half-hour before they realise I'm long gone."

"Oh, well that's… good to know," Steve concedes. "Have you met my wife?"

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," Larry says, then gives her a nod, tipping an imaginary hat. "Mrs Carlsberg."

"Caitlin," she corrects. "And this is my daughter, Janice."

Caitlin gestures over to where Janice is still curled on the couch, engrossed in whatever she's doing on her phone, though at the mention of her name she glances briefly over and gives a little wave.

"'Sup," she says.

Caitlin sighs in the way only the parent of a teenager can, and then returns her focus to the matter in hand. "Larry, will you join us for dinner? It's beef casserole, which will go quite well with the discussion of the massive conspiracy that my husband and my brother seem to have gotten themselves embroiled in."

"I'd be delighted, ma'am," Larry replies.

"Caitlin," she corrects again.

***

So they sit down to dinner. Caitlin, it turns out, is a very excellent cook, and the food is especially welcome after the day they've had. Whilst they eat, they explain everything to Larry, who somehow manages to just sit and listen without looking like his entire world has inverted.

Even though it's clear it has.

They don't leave anything out this time, being up-front about Kevin's involvement in it all – although, like before, Cecil says nothing about the incident that _really_ precipitated the afternoon's events. The incident in the side-street, with Kevin, and that knife, and his warning, and…

…Carlos needs not to think about it. Carlos needs not to think about it very, very badly.

"…So let me get this straight," Larry says, finally, when Cecil finishes explaining about the map and the weird numbers prophecy. "You think that Strex is after us because of… because why, exactly?"

"We don't know," Carlos admits. "From the available evidence, I'd say that the four of you – with Cecil's help – are destined to save Night Vale. And Strex knows, so they're trying to make sure you can't."

He realises it isn't exactly the best explanation, and – scientifically-speaking – it's mostly conjecture and extrapolation. The trouble is, by Night Vale's standards, it's also nigh-on certain to be true.

"OK," Larry manages. "And you're going to..?"

"Run a pirate radio station out of WZZZ," Cecil replies.

"Protected by…"

"Protected by Tamika and the youth militia, yes."

"I see. And you want me to..?"

"In the first instance, we want you to stay safe and off Strex's radar as much as possible," Cecil answers. "We can't ask more of you than that."

"Cecil, please, you called me here and told me I'm apparently destined to co-save the town or die horribly in the attempt," Larry points out, far too brightly. "So you tell me what it is you need me to do."

"If you're willing to help… we need to work out what happened to Josie," Cecil tells him. "If we can find her… she might be able to shed more light on all this."

Larry nods. "I can ask some questions. It won't be easy, but I know people. People who know people. Even a few who are in the Secret Police."

"Perfect," Carlos says. "So you look for Josie, and I'll get the scientists together and see if we can work out how to get to John Peters – you know, the..?"

"…Yes, Carlos, we know," Steve interrupts, which makes both Cecil and Caitlin glare at him.

"And _I'll_ talk to Tamika and make sure the WZZZ building is protected," Janice interjects.

"You better be careful, young lady," Caitlin says, although she doesn't object this time.

Perhaps the full weight of the situation has finally settled in.

"And I'll start broadcasting from WZZZ every day," Cecil goes on. "I can finally be up-front about what I know. About what Tamika has been telling me…"

"…Wait," Carlos interrupts. "You were in contact with Tamika Flynn before this afternoon?"

Cecil looks suddenly sheepish. "I've… been in contact with her since just after Strex came to town. Since I did that piece on the formation of the youth militia. It hasn't been easy because I've never been able to say anything clearly, but I've done my best to say what I could whilst keeping it subtle."

"And… you never told me?"

"To protect you," Cecil insists, eyes full of guilt; a guilt that just makes Carlos feel awful because what right does he have to complain about Cecil having secrets like these when Carlos himself has kept _far_ worse?

"…Right," Carlos concedes. "Of course. I… Would you give me a moment? I… sorry…"

He rises to his feet, suddenly needing to be alone. To be… away from all this.

"Steve, it's your turn to do the washing-up," he hears Caitlin saying, obviously trying to distract everyone else. "Janice, honey, help your stepdad with the dishes."

"Yes, Mom," Janice replies, automatically.

But Carlos doesn't hear any more, because by this point he's made it to the front door and stepped outside, into the warm desert air. By now the sun has all but set; the horizon glowing a deep orange off to the left. He drops down onto the top step leading down from the porch, sitting with his head in his hands for a long moment until a sound behind him makes him jump: someone else coming out the front door.

It's Cecil. "Room for another?" he asks, almost hesitantly.

"Sure," Carlos replies. "There's always room for you."

Cecil sits down next to him, pausing a second before sliding an arm around his waist, and Carlos leans into the contact. Needing it very, very badly.

"You don't have to be this nice to me," he points out, softly.

"You're my boyfriend," Cecil replies.

"Well, yes, but that doesn't mean…"

Carlos trails off. He knows what this is about. Knows why he's suddenly felt the need to run off out here.

Knows there's a conversation they still haven't had.

"Carlos," Cecil says, turning and putting a hand on the side of Carlos' face, gently urging him to make eye contact. "Tell me what's wrong."

"…We haven't really talked about what happened," Carlos says, very quietly. "And… and you've been leaving it out of all the explanations… and OK, I'm grateful for that because I don't want to talk about it around other people, but… but…" He trails off, almost losing it at that, and only the way Cecil is still looking at him keeps Carlos from trying to make a run for it again. "…Cecil, I'm so sorry. I kissed him and… and I'm sorry."

"Do you still have feelings for him?" Cecil asks, softly.

"I…" Carlos tries, then _does_ lose it and tries to pull away. Cecil still has hold of him, though, which means he doesn't get very far, and that… that sends a stab of sudden need running through Carlos which he's not at all able to engage with right now. He stops resisting after a long moment, caught in Cecil's eyes and loving it, even as he's still wishing the ground would open up and swallow him.

There is something seriously wrong with him. Something seriously wrong.

"I… thought I didn't," he whispers. "I honestly thought… I mean, every time I've thought about him since I left Desert Bluffs… I've felt nothing – _nothing_ – except fear and regret. And when he came to town… when he set-up that whole thing outside the radio station… just the same. Fear and regret. Oh, and anger. Quite a lot of that, too. And that was what I expected and it was fine and then… then he had me pinned to that wall with that knife over my throat and Cecil… I was _terrified_. I was absolutely terrified… until I realised he wasn't going to hurt me. Realised he was… he was trying to help, and it was as though everything suddenly made sense. And I… I don't even know where it came from. I just… I just _needed_ him, all of a sudden. It only lasted a moment, but… but… but it's like it left some imprint in my mind. Some… some shadow of what I used to feel for him, and…"

"So… you do still feel something?"

"It's… it's more like I feel something _again_. But I don't want to, Cecil. I love _you_. I love you, but no matter how hard I try… I can't turn these other feelings off."

He tries to drop his head at that; tries to pull away. But again, Cecil doesn't let him, and this time tugs him in closer, wrapping both arms around him and holding him tight.

"Why do you have to be so damnably wonderful?" Carlos exclaims, suddenly.

"If I'm wonderful, it's because you make me that way," Cecil replies. "Because I love you. And I'm not giving up on you just because things are difficult. You've told me you love me back, and that's all I need."

"…I don't deserve you," Carlos mutters.

"Then I don't deserve you either," Cecil says. "So I guess we both just got really, really lucky."

"…Our town is under Strexcorp's thumb and their agents actively want to murder me and abduct you because of some weird prophecy that the sentient computer running the numbers station may have accidentally tuned into," Carlos points out. "And that's _lucky?_ "

"Well, that part not so much," Cecil concedes. "Although I'd rather that and have you than not that and lose you."

Carlos curls in tighter, a little lost for words at this.

"It's going to be all right," Cecil insists, though Carlos is not sure that it is, and he worries maybe Cecil feels the same, deep down. "We're safe now, and we're together, and whatever comes next… we can do this. We can do this."

Though whether he's talking about the fate of Night Vale or the fate of their relationship… Carlos doesn't know.

And that… is terrifying.

***

It's a while before they go back inside; time they spend just sitting in the slowly-darkening air, pressed close. Carlos tries to let himself be soothed by it but he can only relax so much.

When they do step back into the house, Steve and Larry are in the kitchen, finishing the washing-up. Janice has somehow gotten out of it and is back in her place on the couch, engrossed in whatever she's doing on her phone. Caitlin is looking somewhat resigned but concerned nonetheless, and she glances up from the book she's half-reading as Carlos and Cecil come back in.

"Hey, Cecil, is that your phone?" she asks, gesturing to where one is lying, on the low table in the centre of the couches. "'Cause it keeps buzzing."

"Oh…" Cecil murmurs, reaching to pick it up. "Yeah, it's mine; it's a bunch of texts from…"

He pauses, which makes Carlos step in closer, worried again for a moment.

"…from Dana!"

"Dana?" Caitlin repeats. "Wasn't she the intern of yours who got trapped in the Dog Park?"

Cecil nods. "That's right. She was trapped in the Dog Park during Poetry Week, almost exactly a year ago now. She got out using a strange door that just… appeared on its own, without any explanation… and ended up in an empty desert with a mountain at its centre."

This makes Caitlin give him a weird look. "Cecil. Mountains aren't real."

"I thought the same, but apparently they are," Cecil replies.

Carlos does his best not to say anything. Some of Night Vale's quirks are easier if you just don't question them.

"Cecil's right," Larry adds, as he and Steve come back in from the kitchen. "I didn't believe in them either at first, but I'm reliably informed they're real. I've never seen one myself, though. 'Cept that time with the mirage."

"Of _course_ mountains are real," Steve insists, dropping onto the couch next to Janice. "Mountains are as real as trees or spy satellites or the secret articles of allegiance between the CIA and the Illuminati."

Cecil facepalms. Steve scowls at him.

"…What do the texts say?" Caitlin interjects, in a firm ending-the-argument-before-it-begins tone of voice.

Cecil glares at Steve again and then returns his attention to his phone. "There's several," he replies. "All from Dana. She says… she says she's still OK, and that she's not on her own anymore. She's with Maureen, who finally seems to exist in the same place all the time, and…"

"…Maureen?" Steve repeats.

"Another of our interns," Cecil explains.

"Oh yes, I remember," Steve says. "Phased out of existence live on air because of the thing with the oranges, right?"

Cecil nods. "That's her."

"You know you guys go through interns at an _alarming_ rate?"

"I can't help it if they die all the time! Life is dangerous! Life in radio doubly-so! _Besides_ , Maureen isn't dead and neither is Dana. They both just exist somewhere _else_ at the moment."

Steve scowls again, but doesn't say any more just yet.

"The texts?" Caitlin prompts.

"Yes, right, sorry," Cecil replies, looking back at his phone. "So Dana says she's with Maureen and they're both OK, and… whoa, that… there's other people there, too. Masked warriors. Dana says… Dana says they're following her. _Listening_ to her."

"Masked warriors?" Larry repeats. "Like… the ones in that same mirage? The one with the mountain?"

"I think so," Cecil says. "Dana's mentioned them before, but this is the first time she's talked about making contact with them."

"So… what?" Steve asks. "She's trapped inside a mirage?"

"No," Carlos replies. "Best I can tell… and it's not exactly easy to work out… but the best I can tell, she's trapped on another plane that the mirage was temporarily reflecting. I didn't realise it at the time, but eventually I did some more tests and that's the way it looks now."

"Mirages can reflect other _planes_?" Caitlin says.

Carlos gives a little shrug. "They can in Night Vale."

"There's something else," Cecil goes on. "Dana says… she's found another door."

"A door?" Larry repeats.

"Yes," Cecil replies. "An old oak door standing unsupported by any other structure."

The light dawns in Larry's eyes. " _Oh_ ," he breathes, "you mean like the one John found months back?"

Cecil nods. "It seems that way. Dana says the door is standing in the middle of the desert. There's a blinking light up on the mountain, and to start off with, the door only showed up when the light was on. But now, Dana says it's there all the time, though she can't get it open. Neither can Maureen, or any of the masked warriors. She says they're deliberately staying close to it, though, as if they're waiting for something."

"You think someone might come through that door?" Caitlin wonders.

"That would be my guess," Cecil replies. "But who it could be, and where – or when – they might be from, I don't know. I should ask Dana if… oh dear…"

Before he can say anything else – and before he can type more than a couple of letters – Cecil jumps back as a pair of wings erupt from either side of his phone, and it launches into the air, making a circle of the room before settling on the edge of the central light fitting.

They all stare.

"…Does that happen a lot?" Caitlin finally manages.

"It does when I try to talk to Dana," Cecil replies, with an offhand shrug. "Sometimes it lets me reply, but a lot of the time it… finds other things to do. This is actually pretty minor by its standards."

"I… see."

"So who do we think is gonna come through that door?" Larry now wonders.

"Y'know, it might not be for someone to come through," Janice chips in, not looking up from her phone. "It might be for them to _go_ through."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Steve says.

"Not if you've been trapped on another plane for months," Janice points out.

"Very true," Caitlin agrees. "So… could there be another door in Night Vale?"

"Besides the door John went through?" Cecil replies. "There could be. If there is, we need to find it."

Janice gives a little shrug, still not looking up. "Assuming it doesn't find us first."

"I don't think doors can do that, sweetie," Caitlin says.

"…I think maybe they can in Night Vale," Carlos can't help pointing out.

And given the way things are going at present, the distraction of a mysterious door would be something of a godsend.

But you should be careful what you wish for.


	8. The Black Hole Information Paradox

**The Black Hole Information Paradox**

_Energy cannot be created or destroyed. All information – which is energy – within a black hole merges into one within the singularity. Information absorbed by the black hole is therefore lost forever._

***

_"The sun is cold and the moon rules the day. Up is down and right is left. Discount all you thought you knew and embrace a different truth. Welcome to Radio Free Night Vale."_

_"First off: Hello. This is indeed Cecil and if you are hearing my voice, you have received word via one of several anonymous and shadowy contacts about the existence of this show. No doubt you have a great many questions and – for once – I will do what I can to give you the answers. Well. I will do what I can to give you_ some _of them. There are of course questions you may have that I cannot answer; questions about the nature of life, and of love, and why toast always lands butter-side down… Actually, my boyfriend, Carlos – who is a scientist – can probably deal with that last one, so maybe we'll get to that after the town we all hold dear is saved from the terrible calamity currently befalling it."_

 _"And there is a terrible calamity currently befalling it. You know it, I know it, and now, dear listeners, I can say it. This town –_ our _Night Vale – is under the thrall of Strexcorp Synernists Inc, and we must fight back. I have stood by too long and let this happen, and now… now all that is about to change. I would like to have been speaking to you from the community radio station, a place that is as much my home as my_ actual _home, but if I was to return there I very much suspect it would cost me my life. So instead, I am coming to you live from WZZZ, Night Vale's very own numbers station and home of my generous host, Fey – the now-liberated sentient computer who has been broadcasting numbers from this very location for years now."_

 _"Many of you will no doubt have heard my fateful final broadcast from the community radio station yesterday afternoon. Let me assure you that I am well, as is Carlos, who was with me at the time. Both of us are now in hiding in the company of… allies. Of fellow Night Valeans who believe – as we do – that the current state of affairs must change; that Strexcorp must be driven from our town and order –_ our _order – restored here forthwith. So keep your radios tuned to this frequency, Night Vale, for all of the news and features you're used to, along with the truth that has previously been kept from you."_

_"And now, the community calendar…"_

It's mid-afternoon, and Carlos is driving along Route 800, out towards Steve Carlsberg's place. It's good to have his car back – even if going home for it, albeit briefly, was deeply dangerous – and now he's returning to Steve's house following a secret lunchtime meeting with the other scientists.

They've all been terribly wound up, and it took him some time to get them calm enough to focus on the matter in hand; on how to keep themselves safe given that they're known associates of his, and on how he'll be staying in touch with them despite being in hiding.

Toby takes him aside at the end and begs him not to get himself killed. The odd thing is, even given the clear threat _to_ kill him and the _actual_ attempt on his life, Carlos still hasn't really processed the idea that he could die. It's not that he's being blasé about it – on the contrary, he doesn't think anything has ever sounded so serious – but rather that he's so focused on other things that threats to him seem somehow… unreal.

And now, he's on his way back to Steve's, to meet up with Cecil, and listening to the recording of his boyfriend's show from earlier in the afternoon – around about the point that Carlos himself was meeting the other scientists. He can hear the serious edge to Cecil's tone, but at the same time, there's something else there too. A kind of… _liberation_. A realisation that he's finally free to speak the truth.

Truth. There's a lot of that about at the moment. Carlos is still not so sure how he feels about it. In principle, he's in favour of it, but in practice… life was much easier when certain truths _weren't_ out in the open. When Strexcorp wasn't trying to kill him and when Cecil didn't know about…

…oh, don't think it.

He takes the long route over to Steve's, partly to lose anyone who might be tailing him (which Steve himself explained how to do, at length, during breakfast this morning) and partly so that he can listen to Cecil's entire show.

It's a good one. He's captivating at the best of times, but when he really gets into something – like, say, spreading information to help aid the liberation of his hometown – he's downright _hypnotic_.

Carlos wonders if he should suggest to Cecil that they take a drive out into the desert. Way out into the desert. Far away from the house they're currently – necessarily – sharing with several other people. Away from everyone, where it could just be _them_.

…that sounds nice.

The recorded show has just come to a rather impassioned end when Carlos makes it to Steve's place. He pulls up outside, noticing that neither Steve nor Caitlin's cars are here – though he didn't expect them back this early – but that Larry's is. This is a good sign, because he's the one who's been driving Cecil about today, given that no one is quite daring enough to go near the community radio station to retrieve _his_ car.

Carlos heads up the steps onto the porch and starts to slowly push open the front door. As he does, he catches a voice, a voice that makes him freeze to the spot, heart suddenly pounding.

It's Kevin. For a moment, Carlos is sure the man must be here, but then he processes a few more words and realises that what he's actually hearing is a radio broadcast.

_"…which is of course in line with the standard Strexcorp business model; a fact they all quickly accepted without needing further persuasion."_

_"Now, Night Vale, I know you must be a little taken aback to be hearing me presenting this show; a show that has for so long been fronted by my own very talented double, Cecil. Unfortunately, problems did arise following his expression of certain fringe views at the conclusion of yesterday's show, so it will be a little while before Cecil returns to Night Vale Community Radio. But let me assure you, Strexcorp has been nothing but supportive to one of its most talented employees, and we're all just counting down the days until Cecil is back on air right here, where he belongs. I know I am. We radio presenters often live a deeply_ isolated _life, alone in our booths with a certain sense of disconnection between ourselves and the people to whom we spend our lives talking. And I for one remain hopeful that Cecil and I will be able to work_ together _very soon."_

_"In the meantime, I promise to maintain the standards of excellence and community-involvement you have all come to expect; standards I myself uphold every day over in Desert Bluffs, a home I love as much as all of you love yours. To that end… let's move right into some local news."_

_"Strexcorp officials and Night Vale city planners have been left baffled today by the appearance of a large oak door in the centre of town. The door, which stands unsupported by any other structure, appeared during the night close to the city's Dog Park, which I am told is forbidden and not to be known about. The door, on the other hand,_ can _be known about, though as of press time very little is_ actually _known. A small crowd of curious onlookers have surrounded the door, some merely observing it in all its mysteriousness, and others trying to open it. So far, none of them has been able to get the door to budge even a little – indeed, they're not even sure which way it opens; though, really, you should be able to_ tell _that just by looking, if the designer has done their job properly. But I'm sure we can forgive them simply because of how impressive and beautiful the unopening door is."_

_"And now, traffic. There's a car. It's driving towards you; driving at unimaginable speeds right towards you. You probably can't see it right now – if you can, maybe you'd better swerve! – but it's there. The truth is, it may not be a car at all… or, at least, not any car you've ever known. But it hurtles, hurtles along the road that is your life, faster and faster until…"_

Carlos can't stand it any longer. He pushes the door quickly open with a clatter and steps inside, from the point on the threshold where he's been lingering all this time, listening. He's not sure what to expect when he gets inside but he's confident that it will be either Larry or possibly Janice, tuning in on the enemy so as to be prepared for what could be coming next.

But it isn't. It's Cecil. He spins around when he hears the door, quickly clicking the radio off, and there's a look of acute guilt writ large across his face.

…wait, guilt? Why would Cecil be looking guilty?

"Cecil?" Carlos says.

"Carlos!" Cecil exclaims, now jumping up from where he's been sitting and hurrying over, that guilty flicker still there in his eyes. "I didn't expect you back so soon."

Carlos gives a little shrug. "The scientists took less time to calm than I expected. Well. I don't think 'calm' is the right word. I think it's more that they were stunned into silence by the fact that Strexcorp tried to _kill_ me yesterday."

He glances round at the radio. "…Were you just listening to Kevin?"

Cecil's guilty expression gets worse. "Yes," he says, though it looks as though he's only admitting to it because he's in no position to deny it. "Yes. I figured it was better to know what was going on than just ignore it, so…"

"…No, of course, that makes sense," Carlos replies. And it does. It makes a lot of sense. So why is Cecil being so cagey about it? "I listened to your show on my way back," he goes on, deciding not to dwell too much on the matter now.

"Did it… work OK?" Cecil asks, now looking almost nervous.

Carlos takes his hands, pulling them in against his own chest. "Of course it did. You were great. You always are. And it was good to hear you finally being free to tell the whole truth."

"It was good to do it," Cecil replies, stepping in closer. "Fey was very encouraging… when she wasn't singing to herself. And I managed to get in and out of WZZZ without running into any Strex enforcers. Larry got the car in close, and I think several of Tamika's militia were in the bushes, though of course I never saw them."

"Well, I guess that's a success for day one," Carlos says. "We just… have a lot more days to get through."

"We do," Cecil agrees. "But in a sense… that's life in a nutshell. No matter what we're facing – be it a mega-conglomerate hell-bent on taking over our town, or just the beat of daily existence – every day is a challenge, and every night is a mark of success."

His tone has dropped, the way it does when he's waxing lyrical on the radio, and Carlos is possessed of a sudden urge to jump the man. Indeed, only the fact they're standing in Steve Carlsberg's living room actually stops him from doing just that.

Nothing wrong with a little involved making-out on the couch, though. Steve has a lovely big couch, and right now no one is using it.

And a little involved making-out is a great way to stop thinking about all the things you don't want to think about but really probably should.

They're obviously both on the same mental path, because it's Cecil who pulls Carlos towards the couch first, even as Carlos is about to try doing the same. They kiss quickly before dropping down onto the couch, Cecil on top, launching into some rather more involved kissing… and _wow_ but it feels good. Doubly-so because Cecil is particularly enthusiastic, as if he has something to prove or… re-affirm.

This is something else Carlos is vaguely aware he should be thinking about. But what he actually _says_ , when they pause for breath, is, "…Who else is here?"

"Just Larry," Cecil replies. "But he's out back in that weird shed Steve keeps all his _internet-monitoring_ gear in. Apparently, if nothing else, it gets seamless streaming on Netflix, and Larry says he's _way_ behind on _Game of Thrones_. So if you're worrying about us being disturbed…"

More kissing. More kissing is oh-so-good.

"…I still don't think it's wise for us to have sex in Steve Carlsberg's living room," Carlos points out, trying very hard to apply common sense to the situation before he loses the faculty entirely. "Just… take a drive with me? Please? We could just… just go out in the desert, and…"

Yet more kissing. Cecil presses in closer, dipping his head to start kissing the curve of Carlos' neck, which he knows full-well will drive him wild… and it does. Carlos wraps his arms up, holding on tight, encouraging the attention more and more because it feels _so_ incredibly good; to be here, to be held, to be wanted.

To be _his_.

"…All right," Cecil agrees, finally, when he has to pause for breath again. "All right. Come on…"

He scrambles up, offering Carlos a hand to pull him upright too, and they head over to the front door, stepping outside and…

…they both freeze. Beyond the door is a view out over the desert, looking north towards Night Vale; the same view they both sat looking at only last night. But now, as they stare at the city, glittering in the late-afternoon sun, they can see something else. There are always helicopters over Night Vale; black, blue, bedecked with images of diving birds of prey… and yellow, of course. There are always several yellow helicopters over Night Vale.

But right now, there's a whole swarm of them, over the centre of town; a great mass of yellow helicopters hovering like predatory insects. Cecil and Carlos freeze on the top step of the porch, staring out at the view.

"…Oh no," Cecil breathes. "Oh no. What's going on?"

"I dread to think," Carlos replies, gripping his hand tight. "I hope the others aren't anywhere near… whatever that is."

"Me too," Cecil agrees. "Because it can't be good." He pauses, and though Carlos isn't looking right at him – and rather at the ominous view in front of them – he can still hear the odd little edge to his boyfriend's voice as he goes on, "…It would help to know what it _was_ , though."

There's a weird silence, during which Carlos does now look sideways at him, only Cecil still doesn't meet his eyes because he's studiously looking straight ahead.

"…You know, Kevin's probably reporting on it," Cecil points out. "We could… turn back on. Just to see."

Carlos keeps looking at him. "Are you worried about what he's doing with your show?"

"Yes," Cecil says, too quickly. "Yes, that. Exactly that."

So definitely _not_ that, then. Or, mostly not.

They go inside again, and turn the radio back on – and, at once, Kevin's voice fills the air.

Carlos tries very, very hard not to shiver.

_"…Saturday, of course, is the annual celebration in honour of the mighty H'ygragagogoth. I don't know if this is something all of you here in Night Vale have celebrated before, but it's a long-standing Strexcorp tradition so we'll be glad to include you in the fun! Rites commence precisely one hour after sundown, and if you're planning to attend you should be advised that loose-fitting clothing is essential and it would be wise to have a doctor check your iron levels in advance."_

_"And now, dear listeners, let's move on to… oh, please hold on one moment. Our producer, Daniel, has just stepped into the studio and handed me an urgent press release. Hmmmm, let's… oh my. Oh."_

The shift in his voice at that is _extremely_ distracting, and Carlos has to quickly recite a couple of quick theorems in his head to stop himself losing focus.

 _"…Some breaking news, listeners,"_ Kevin now goes on. _"We've had a few reports already today that the number of Strexcorp helicopters over Night Vale has been steadily increasing. I did wonder if perhaps they were coming to town to join in this weekend's festivities but I've just been informed that the reason is_ infinitely _more wonderful. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great honour to announce that the Strexcorp Management Board will be coming to Night Vale this very evening. They released a statement earlier, which was delivered by none other than CEO Derek Hartley himself. Mr Hartley said:_ "Now that we have a strong presence in Night Vale, myself and the other four directors have decided the time has come for us to visit our newest acquisition. We will be coming to Night Vale for an as-yet-undetermined length of time to fortify our position within the town and to move our operations onto their next – and final – stage." _Well, there you have it, folks – a quintet of real Desert Bluffs celebrities will be arriving in Night Vale very soon. What an amazing day! If you're interested in seeing them, all you need to do is follow the helicopters. I know I'll be doing just that once I go off air. And so, as we all take a moment to ponder just what this means for each of us, let me take you – in a spiral of hope and promise – to the weather."_

Cecil clicks the radio off and stares across at Carlos. "…That's not good," he manages. "That's… really not good."

"It's not good at all," Carlos agrees. "If the Strexcorp bosses are coming here… they must have something big planned."

"They must," Cecil says. "But so do we. We're helping the resistance now. Helping the youth militia. They're only stepping up their game because we've stepped up ours."

The edge to _his_ voice is rather distracting too. Carlos slides a little closer.

"I love it when you get all forthright," he says. "We should take that trip out into the desert now."

"Yes," Cecil replies, turning to wrap an arm around him again. "We should."

So they do.

***

The days start to pass.

The Strexcorp Management Board do indeed come to Night Vale, and set themselves up in the building opposite the now-empty City Hall. A lot of people – all known Strex employees – are seen heading in and out of the building, but no one is quite sure what's going on when they're inside it.

The Festival of H'ygragagogoth takes place, just as Kevin said it would. Cecil, Carlos and their allies stay as far away from it as possible, so they're spared from finding out what it actually entails, but the sounds carry much further than they ought to and the fire can be seen for miles at night. The next day, the people in town seem even more subdued, and there's whispers of blood out in the desert – and, worse still, whispers of parts of town that are covered in blood too.

The ever-growing resistance starts to step up its game. The youth militia becomes more active, hitting known Strex businesses, and the people as a whole start to become more unsettled. More questioning of Strex policies.

But it isn't enough. Strexcorp's hold on the town is too strong to break, and no matter how hard they try… the resistance just doesn't seem to be gaining any ground.

"We need John!" Steve exclaims, one night, when they're all meeting in his living room to discuss how things are going. "We need Josie! If we're supposed to do this with them, how are we supposed to do it without them?"

He has a point. They've been trying to work out how to retrieve the other two of the number-fated-four, but so far they've had no luck. Carlos' team of scientists still haven't been able to work out how to get into the house that doesn't exist – the house they're sure that John is inside – and despite asking careful questions and making enquiries, Larry still hasn't been able to track down where Josie could be.

Carlos tries not to think about it, as he lies awake in the dark, on the fold-out couch bed in Steve's living room, wrapped in Cecil's arms. He's pretty sure his boyfriend is asleep, but not certain, and he doesn't quite dare say anything.

He doesn't dare say anything because there's now only one thing on his mind. One possibility. They've been in hiding for two weeks now, but they haven't actually seen Kevin since that afternoon in WZZZ. Yes, they've heard him on the radio – more than Carlos would have expected, actually, because that initial day is not the only time he's caught Cecil listening in to his double's broadcast – but they haven't spoken or met up since.

Carlos doesn't want to. The trouble is, he's increasingly unable to deny the possibility that they might have to. That Kevin might be able to help them.

But he doesn't want to say it. So instead, he lies awake, staring out into the darkness, trying not to think. A memory crosses his mind; the kind of memory that comes unwanted and unbidden, and impossible to ignore, and the merest flashes of it make his whole body tense suddenly.

Echoes of things past.

"Are you OK?" comes Cecil's voice. So he is awake, then. Or, at least, he is now.

"Yeah," Carlos lies. "I just… can't sleep. I… I keep thinking…"

Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say it.

"…What?" Cecil prompts, gently, rolling Carlos onto his back in order to meet his eyes.

"…Nothing," Carlos lies again.

"Carlos," Cecil says, resting a hand on the side of his face, "it's OK. You can tell me."

But he can't. He _can't_. Filled with sudden fear and a liberal dash of reticence, Carlos sits up, and he can feel Cecil's surprise at the move.

"I can't," Carlos whispers. "I can't because… because what I would tell you is that we're going to have to ask Kevin for help, and that if we do it will just make things worse for us even if it _does_ make things better for the resistance as a whole. I'd tell you that we're going to have to see him again, and you'd know – as I know – that when we do, he'll affect me the way he has all along. That he'll make me feel things – _want_ things – that I can't control. That I am _scared_ to admit to you. To myself. I don't want you to see that part of me, Cecil. I lived in Desert Bluffs for months and… and whatever I might say or think about how unsettling it was… I still did it. What does that say about me?"

"It says you're the bravest man I know," Cecil replies, sitting up too and pressing in behind him, wrapping him in close. "Tell me something: do you love me?"

"Of _course_ I do," Carlos says, voice cracking. "I love you with everything that I am."

"And that is all I need," Cecil tells him.

His words are so heartfelt. So soothing. So completely everything Carlos needs right now.

But Carlos can't accept them. Some part of him… can't.

"…It shouldn't be," he whispers. And he pulls away again, further this time, and the distress he can feel from Cecil almost breaks him on the spot.

He wants to turn back. Wants to turn back and curl up in his boyfriend's arms and know that, even if the whole world falls down, he'll still have this. Still have him. Except, every time he thinks about Kevin…

"…I need some space," he says. "I just… I need some space."

And he gets up, pulling on his dressing gown and walking away through the darkness, tugging the front door open and pacing outside. He drops down onto the top step of the porch, looking up at a dark sky awash with stars, feeling renewed anguish building in his heart.

He's just walked away from the love of his life.

For the second time.

Carlos wonders if Cecil will come after him. Sits, and waits, and wonders. But for the rest of the night, there's nothing but silence; nothing but silence and a door at his back – a door that has suddenly become like the mysterious door in the centre of Night Vale.

A door that never opens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this entire chapter before Episode 46 ( _Parade Day_ ) was released, and as such nearly had a fit when it was. I didn't expect the doors to become a thing so fast! It was at this point that I realised I was going to have to start writing faster, and as such have pretty much spent every weekend since living in my coffee shop of choice (I do the bulk of my writing in coffee shops. JK Rowling is _so_ right).
> 
> And I just want it on record that the guys in there are saints. All baristas deserve more love!


	9. The Second Law of Thermodynamics

**The Second Law of Thermodynamics**

_An isolated system invariably tends towards chaos._

***

The next morning… it's clear everyone knows something is wrong. Even though Carlos is careful to come inside long before any of the others wake up, and even though neither he nor Cecil is being even remotely hostile, it's hard to miss that something is going on.

It makes Carlos' chest ache so much he can hardly bear it. He wants to say something – anything – but he knows this is all his fault. Knows he's doing this to himself. To both of them.

It doesn't stop Cecil from wrapping both arms around him and kissing him before he heads out with Larry, but Carlos can feel Cecil's hesitancy as he does. "I'll… see you tonight," Cecil tells him. "We should… we should talk when I get back."

Carlos nods. "We should," he agrees. Maybe, if he spends all day concentrating, he can work out what to say. How to make this right.

At times like this, distraction is key. Carlos knows that all too well. Once everyone else has headed out, he sets off as well, going into town to meet up with the other scientists. Hoping against hope that they might have made some progress with the house that doesn't exist.

But they haven't. They haven't, and despite several hours spent going through all their findings again, they still can't work out what they're doing wrong.

Mid-afternoon rolls around, and Carlos has just set out to drive back to Steve Carlsberg's place when his phone starts to ring. He pulls over and tugs it from his pocket, and is surprised to see that it's Larry.

"Hello?" he says, lifting it to take the call.

"Carlos!" comes Larry's voice, frantic and cracking in a way Carlos has never heard before. "Carlos, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… you need to run. You need to run right now."

Terror grips his heart; a terror as cold as ice and as insidious as poison, and even before Larry speaks the words, Carlos knows what they're going to be.

"…We were attacked," Larry goes on. "Right after the broadcast. A whole swarm of Strex enforcers appeared out of nowhere. Tamika and those crazy kids of hers fought back, but… but it wasn't enough. Carlos… Carlos, I'm so sorry… they took Cecil. Strex took Cecil."

And in those few words… everything is undone. Carlos can't breathe. Can't think. Can't… anything.

"…They… they took Cecil?" he whispers, and it's a nightmare made real; the very depths of Hell cracking open and pouring anguish out onto a helpless world. "I… they…"

"You need to run," Larry urges. "I'll get to Steve and his family. Take them somewhere safe. Just… just find a place to hide, and I'll call you when I've got somewhere for us to meet."

"Larry… I…" Carlos tries, but his brain isn't parsing any of this. Not one word. He's completely blue-screened and there's nothing he can do.

"Run!" Larry urges again. "Carlos, run!"

And he hangs up.

The silence is like a cloak of lead, weighing down on Carlos, so intense and so crushing it makes that long-past day in Desert Bluffs feel minor in comparison.

 _Strexcorp has Cecil_.

Strexcorp has Cecil.

All is lost.

"… _Help me_ …" Carlos whispers, but there's no one to hear. No one. No one is coming to help him.

Cecil is gone, and Carlos is completely alone.

***

Carlos goes home.

He doesn't know why. It's as though his mind is just acting on some unthinking autopilot. He drives around for a while, maybe to lose anyone who might be tailing him and maybe just because he doesn't know what else to do. But eventually… he goes home. He hasn't been back since the morning he snuck over to retrieve his car, and it's strange to return to the place. To _their_ place. The mere sight of it makes his chest ache even more, but the anguish is so intense now that it's as if he's moved past it. As if it's there, but he's not processing it.

It's… too much. Far too much.

Stepping inside… is like walking into a memory. A memory of a world before all this; before they were on the run, in hiding, before they were guiding the resistance towards a goal they had little hope of ever achieving.

It's all so cripplingly normal; everything where he remembers it, _as_ he remembers it. He stands in the hallway, staring around, expecting everything to be different.

But it isn't.

"…What do I do now..?" he murmurs out loud. "I… don't…"

 _Strexcorp has Cecil_.

Every time he thinks it, it seems like something out of a nightmare. Like something he's going to wake up from, something so terrible it couldn't possibly be real.

But it is real. And every time Carlos has to realise that again, it feels as though the agony is getting stronger.

He sinks down to the ground, rocking back against the wall, knees pulled into his chest. Trying so desperately to think, think of something, some solution, some way out of this.

Something. Anything. He's supposed to be smart. He should be able to figure out what to do.

He can't. His mind is blank. His mind is blank and nothing will bring it back.

***

It's several hours later. Outside, the sun has set, darkness has fallen, and now moonlight has begun to creep slowly across the floor. Carlos is sitting where he collapsed ages ago, mind still a horrible blank, feeling as though the world is lying in pieces around him, shattered and unrepairable.

For quite some time… he's been staring at something. Something he found in his pocket around sunset. Something that's making things even worse, even though it feels as though they can't _get_ any worse.

It's a business card. Kevin's business card, with his personal cellphone number written on the back, which he gave to Carlos that first afternoon in WZZZ. Since finding it, Carlos has been staring at it, trying to decide whether or not he really is as desperate as he thinks he is.

He could call Kevin. The man might help him. Heck, the man might even know something. He'd said he wanted to put Carlos above even his loyalty to Strexcorp, and given that he _did_ knife two of their employees to _death_ outside this very house, Carlos thinks that could be good reason to believe him.

Then again… it could all have been an elaborate ruse. A set-up. One phonecall to the man… and there might be a dozen enforcers descending on this place. And unlike Cecil… Carlos is not someone they want alive.

So he sits, and he stares at the business card, as the moonlight slides further and further across the floor.

He can't do this. Can't risk it. Mustn't risk it.

…What other choice does he have? Larry hasn't called. Steve hasn't called. It's entirely possible Strex has them too, now. Or worse.

Carlos might be the only one left. And what good is he? What good is an overly-nervous scientist who has an unshakeable and near-crippling crush on his boyfriend's evil double?

Because he does. He's got to be honest about that, at least to himself. The reason he's been beating himself up all this time, the reason for last night… is the fact that Carlos can't turn off the way he feels about Kevin. He's tried and he's tried, and it was fine when the man wasn't around because he could just focus on the day of the hostile takeover and let the anger and revulsion dictate his responses. But now Kevin _is_ around… so is everything else. The look he gets in his eyes when he's amused. The tone of his voice when he's presenting his show. The way he moves; such confidence and certainty in every step.

The memory of that moment, with the wall, and the knife, and…

…Don't think it. Don't. _Don't_.

Carlos pulls out his cellphone, and now he's sitting looking at both of them. At the phone, and at the card with Kevin's number on. He stares for a long time until, finally… he figures it's the only option he has left.

The only option.

He taps the number into his phone and dials.

"…Hello?"

"…Kevin? It's… it's Carlos."

The way the other man's voice drops at that gives away a lot. A _lot_. "Carlos?" he repeats, sounding a little incredulous. "Carlos, where are you?"

Carlos wonders if Kevin already knows. If he knows because Strexcorp already knows. If this is the last nail in a long-overdue coffin.

"I… I… Your people have Cecil."

"I know," Kevin replies. Of course he knows. He's probably known longer than Carlos has. "I've been looking for you all evening. Carlos, please, tell me where you are."

"…I went home."

"Home?" Kevin repeats. "Are you insane? I… Look, just stay put and keep away from the windows. I'm coming over."

***

It isn't long before there's a heavy knocking at the door. But Carlos still hasn't moved, and even the knocking isn't going to make him.

"…Carlos?" comes Kevin's voice from outside, after a moment. "Carlos, let me in."

"…It's open," Carlos replies, knowing he's just given up his last chance to avoid doing this.

Knowing that he was always going to do this.

The door opens and Kevin hurries in, shutting it behind him again and then staring down at Carlos with a very conflicted look in his dark eyes.

"Merciless Azatothoth, you had me worried," he exclaims. "When I heard about Cecil, I thought they might have got you too. Or worse."

"…No, no," Carlos replies. "I wasn't with him. I was heading out to meet up when… when one of our people called and warned me."

Kevin puts his hands on his hips. "Carlos, please. Larry Leroy called you. Just because we don't have him doesn't mean we're stupid."

Carlos looks up, unable to keep the hope out of his eyes. "You… your guys don't have him?"

"No," Kevin replies. "Nor do they have Steve Carlsberg and his family. After the enforcers grabbed Cecil, your people scrambled pretty fast. I've got to hand it to them, they gave us the slip remarkably well. So did you. I've been trying to find you all evening. I just didn't think you'd be reckless enough to risk coming back here!"

Carlos gives a little shrug. "I had nowhere else to go. Nowhere. With Cecil gone, I'm just… lost. Completely lost. I don't know what to do. I just don't know what to do and it terrifies me."

Kevin takes a few steps closer, and Carlos suddenly becomes aware of how vulnerable he is. He scrambles to his feet, which makes Kevin pause, holding up a hand.

"Relax," he insists, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Aren't you?" Carlos replies, the fear making a flare of anger light up inside his chest; an anger he hasn't processed until now and really needs not to be distracted by. "You've already hurt me. This is all your fault. You wound me up deliberately so I'd wind Cecil up. You – _we_ – got him fired. We've been in hiding for two weeks because of that. Because of you. Because… because of _me_."

"No," Kevin says, "you've been in hiding because you didn't want to get _killed_. Which is entirely reasonable, let me tell you."

Oh, this was a mistake. This was a terrible mistake. This is only the second time Carlos has been alone with Kevin in two and a half years, and the first time didn't end well. And this time… isn't going to end well either.

"How could you do this to me?" Carlos whispers. "Wasn't embarrassing me in front of half the town enough? Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

"This is not about you, Carlos," Kevin replies, his voice dropping to a deadly serious tone that few people have ever heard. "OK, yes, I'll admit the thing when I arrived was about you, but I couldn't help it. I'd spent two and a half years trying to get over you, only to find you'd moved to the next town across and shacked up with my double! What was I supposed to feel? _Pleased?_ No. But once I'd had my moment, I let it go. I let it go and I only approached you again to _help_ you _and_ Cecil."

"To _help_ us?" Carlos repeats. "You slammed me into a wall and held a knife to my throat!"

"Yes," Kevin says. "Yes, I did. And you know what? You _liked_ it."

These words are like being slammed into a wall all over again. A very hard, very long overdue mental wall. Carlos glares. "You take that back," he insists. "You take that back _right now_."

"Or _what_?" Kevin pushes. "Maybe it's time you faced a few hard truths, Carlos. You're a scientist. _Work it out_."

Carlos glares at him for a couple more seconds, and then tries to make a move. He's not entirely sure what he's aiming to do – whether he's trying to slap the man in front of him or just get out of the way – but it doesn't really matter because the moment he acts, Kevin _re_ acts.

And before Carlos knows it, he's been slammed back against the actual wall, wrists pinned either side of his head. For a second, he seriously considers giving the other man a very sharp kick, but… he doesn't. He just continues to glare, pushing back against the way he's held so that Kevin has to use all his strength to keep him in place.

Damn it. Damn it all to the deepest depths of whichever infernal plane is furthest down.

Deeper than that. To the deepest depths of the most distant black hole in existence.

Damn it. Damn _him_.

Kevin leans in closer, so they're only a breath apart, his presence more gloriously intoxicating than any substance known to humanity. "Tell me to stop," he whispers – and it might be a taunt, but the likelihood is… it's an offer. It's an offer and, strange though it seems, Carlos is sure Kevin _would_ back off if he told him to.

But Carlos doesn't. For a second that seems immeasurable both in its brevity and its infinitude, he keeps glaring at Kevin, and then… then he closes the last lingering gap between them and kisses him. Kisses him _hard_.

This is wrong. This is so, so wrong. But right now… Carlos isn't thinking about that.

He's only thinking about one thing.

Kevin lets go of his wrists and cups his face in both hands, kissing him back, and now Carlos can slide his arms round the other man, leaning into the contact like it represents the last vestiges of oxygen left in the world.

Scientifically-speaking… of course it doesn't. But mentally, emotionally, _physically_ … maybe it does.

"…I thought you were mad at me?" Kevin gasps, when they finally have to break.

"I _am_ mad at you," Carlos replies, voice as rough and as wrecked as he feels. "Now shut up and kiss me again."

And Kevin obliges. He kisses like no one else in the world; filled with a hunger so intense and so overpowering that Carlos can't help rocking back against the wall, confident it's the only thing keeping him upright now.

When they break a second time, Kevin's eyes are dark as night, black as obsidian. He grabs hold of Carlos' wrists and pins him again, before pressing in to start kissing his neck right where he knows will best drive Carlos out of his mind.

Being out of his mind is a godsend right now. A raging, guilty godsend.

" _Please_ ," he gasps, knees almost buckling at how _amazing_ that feels.

Kevin meets his eyes all at once, nose to nose and staring with an intensity that's just _dizzying_. "Do you mean it this time?" he whispers. "Or are you going to lose your nerve and run out on me again?"

" _I mean it_ ," Carlos insists. "I mean it."

This gets him kissed hard and quick. "You _really_ mean it?" Kevin pushes.

"I really mean it," Carlos repeats.

Another kiss, more drawn-out and involved, and Carlos is confident that the hands on his wrists – and the knee that's slipped between his legs – are the only things keeping him on his feet now.

Well… those, and the look in Kevin's eyes when he pulls back again; a look that keeps Carlos in place as though he's being held by something much stronger. "Bedroom?" Kevin asks, and on some level Carlos can't quite work out why the man doesn't know where it is. He's been here once before after all, and though they kept him _away_ from the bedroom that day, it can't take much of a process of elimination to work out where it must be.

But… maybe it's more than that. Maybe it's also to see if Carlos is really planning to go through with this.

He is, even though on every level he knows he shouldn't.

He headtilts off to the side. "Down there."

This gets him kissed again; kissed until he's lightheaded, and then Kevin pulls him around, tugging him along towards the bedroom. Carlos lets himself be manhandled all the way – not because he needs any kind of coercion, but because it feels so ridiculously good.

He's lost. He knows that now. He's completely lost.

They crash through the door into the bedroom and Kevin immediately throws him back on the bed, climbing on top of him and pinning him down before launching into yet more kissing. His hands are everywhere, possessive and wonderful, and it feels as though the rest of the world has just fallen away.

" _Yes_ ," Carlos gasps. "Yes. Don't stop. Don't stop…"

"I've missed you," Kevin says, getting the front of Carlos' shirt open and starting to kiss roughly across his chest… and then he looks up, that darkness back in his eyes. The sight of it sends a shot of fear running through Carlos that is quite simply the most _incredible_ sensation he can fathom right now, and all the more so when Kevin speaks again, his voice dropping to a soft growl. "I've _needed_ you."

" _You have me_ ," Carlos whispers back.

And that's the crux of it. He's been caught in the other man's eyes since the moment Kevin came to town… and he has no idea how to break free.

Or if he even wants to.

Kevin is right back in his face at that, a hand pushed between his legs, stroking agonisingly slowly over the front of his trousers.

"Do you remember what it felt like, to be mine?" he whispers.

"Yes."

"Shall I remind you anyway?"

" _Yes_."

Kevin smiles. Carlos feels his mind fall backwards, into the black.

"Say please…"

" _Please_."

And that's when Kevin gets the front of Carlos' trousers open, pushing a hand inside and starting to stroke him. " _Yes!_ " Carlos cries out again, wrapping his arms up around the man on top of him and holding on.

"I want you so badly," Kevin breathes, like it's the surest truth in the universe.

"Then take me," Carlos gasps. "For the love of Einstein, _take me_."

Perhaps this is the last invitation Kevin needs. Perhaps… he just wanted to see if Carlos would say it. Either way, the words have no sooner slipped his lips than Kevin is pulling more of Carlos' clothes off – enough to grant all the access he needs, though no more – and some of his own too, before he reaches over to the bedside table.

Maybe Carlos is just very predictable. Maybe Kevin still knows him too well. The other man finds the lubricant he's clearly looking for and pours some out at once, and in seconds Kevin is starting to push into him, not looking away from his eyes. Sudden, unprepared, the intrusion makes Carlos gasp sharply and hold on tighter, but maybe he needs that, too. All he knows is, once the initial wave has faded, it feels better than he can put into words.

" _Yes_ ," he breathes again, the moment Kevin first moves his hips. "Yes… like that, just like that…"

Kevin's eyes light up, and his hands go to pin Carlos' wrists once more… but gentler this time, as if he knows Carlos won't object.

He's right.

It all feels so amazing. So damnably, wonderfully amazing. The man on top of him is like a force of nature, surging with power and threat and promise, and Carlos knows he's lost. Utterly, utterly lost. And in truth… he's been lost since the very beginning. Since he first went to Desert Bluffs – that blood-drenched, physics-defying insanity-fest – and met the man who is now dragging him closer and closer to the edge.

He knew from the start that Desert Bluffs was dangerous. That _Kevin_ was dangerous. Yes, it took a very graphic experience to finally make him process it, but the fact of the matter is… Carlos knew. He knew, deep down – and not so deep down – what he was getting into.

Knew, and couldn't resist it.

No.

 _Wouldn't_ resist it.

There has always been a choice… and Carlos has always made the wrong one.

And the right one.

" _I need you_ ," Kevin says, in that voice that makes the world fold in on itself and wrap Carlos up in darkness and wonder. "I've needed you every second of every day that we've been apart. The way you feel beneath my fingers. The look you get in your eyes when I do _this_. The sound of my name on your lips…"

" _Kevin_ ," Carlos obliges.

" _Carlos_ ," Kevin breathes back, head dipped to kiss him on the neck and then whisper in his ear. "I want to feel you break. Break for _me_."

" _Anything_ ," Carlos murmurs. He knows it won't take much longer. Knows he never stood a chance. Knows – on every level but the one he can engage with – that he loves that, too.

Somehow, Kevin's eyes go even darker. "Can you feel the edge?"

Carlos nods, rather more than he needs to. 'Edge' is an understatement. He can feel the abyss at the heart of the universe, and any moment now… he's going to tumble into it.

" _Please_ ," he whispers. "Kevin, please…"

The other man smiles again, and the whole world cracks in half. "Anything for you," Kevin replies, and starts to stroke him hard and quick… and it's the last push Carlos needs. He drops his head back and cries out as completion rips through him, sharp and insistent, reality almost whiting out entirely under the sudden onslaught of bliss and perfection.

And as it does, Carlos screams Kevin's name to the rafters, the act so shot full of memory and familiarity and the moebius-strip nature of life that it would undo him all over again, if it were possible.

It certainly undoes Kevin, who comes just as Carlos starts to still, wrapping around him and holding on as pleasure overtakes, murmuring Carlos' name over and over until finally collapsing against his chest.

There's a very long moment of silence, broken only by the two of them trying to catch their breath, pressed in close and suddenly weary. And in that moment… Carlos is sure he could just curl up here, in the other man's arms, and sleep. And _rest_.

Only… then it all hits him, as if the curtains have been pulled back and the cold, harsh light of day has come spilling in, assailing his eyes with the stark glow of reality.

Of truth.

He's lying on his back, half-dressed and gasping, and he's just had very energetic, very illicit sex with Kevin.

What has he done? What is he _doing?_

"…Get off me…" he whispers, almost speechless with shock, and immediately starts trying to extricate himself from the other man. Kevin looks very taken aback and doesn't do anything to stop him, letting him pull away and scramble off the bed, trying to find his clothing.

"Carlos?" Kevin says. "Carlos, what's wrong?"

"…This was a mistake," Carlos manages, somehow finding his voice, though it's cracking and he's suddenly on the point of tears. "This was… I mean… how could I..?"

"Relax," Kevin insists. "Relax and take a moment to…–"

"…No," Carlos interrupts, backing away further as he pulls his clothes on. "No… I should never have… _we_ should never have…"

And he can feel the way his own eyes darken as he's finally able to meet Kevin's. "…Just go. Go. Get out of here and… don't… don't ever…"

Kevin is on his feet too, now, and also re-dressing… not that it takes much, in his case. "Can we talk about this?" he asks.

"No," Carlos says again, trying to sound firm when he's not even sure how long he can keep standing for. "Just go."

Now Kevin's eyes darken too, which makes Carlos back off a little more. "You don't have to do this," he says.

"I do," Carlos replies. "Go. _Go_."

For a long second, Carlos is sure Kevin is about to attack him; about to draw the knife he's wearing at his back and use it. But he doesn't. He stares, eyes full of a mixture of emotions that Carlos is not remotely prepared for, and then takes a step away.

"Fine," he whispers. "Fine."

And without another word, he turns and stalks out of the room. Carlos stands in frozen silence until he hears the front door open and slam shut again, and then…

…Then he's alone. _Alone_. And he's just cheated on his boyfriend with his boyfriend's double, who also happens to be his own ex. Cheated on him right after he's been abducted by said ex's very much evil employers.

This cannot get much more messed up.

For a very long moment, all Carlos can do is stand in somewhat dishevelled shock, staring at the doorway; stare until his mind finally engages with what's just happened – with what he's _done_ – and all he can do then is stagger in the direction of the bathroom. His whole body still aches with lingering bliss, and that just makes everything so very much worse.

He pulls all his clothes off and steps into the shower, cranking it on, and as the hot water hits him… so does the regret. The guilt. Carlos drops down onto his knees, tears finally coming as freely as the water from above.

His mind is racing now. Racing. But no matter how fast or how far it goes, it can't outrun or outthink the truth of the matter:

This is all his fault. This is all his fault, and he's just made it so very, very much worse.

At the end of the day… perhaps it was inevitable. Perhaps… it's all just basic thermodynamics manifesting on a larger scale.

An isolated system invariably tends towards chaos.

And he is so very, very alone.

***

It's at least an hour later, and deep into the middle of the night, when Carlos finally wanders out of the bathroom again, tugging fresh clothes from the closet. He's just about managed to slow his mind down enough to focus, but it's the kind of dull, disconnected focus that comes from being trapped in a place of absolute grief.

There's no way he's going to sleep tonight. No way at all. The only useful thing he can possibly do is to get out of here and try to work out what's happened to the others. If Kevin was telling the truth – and Carlos doesn't know for sure, but has to hope – then Larry and Steve and his family are all out there somewhere, in hiding.

There are places Carlos can look. People he can ask. He shouldn't do it in the middle of the night, but maybe this way he'll at least be able to slip under Strex's radar and stay out of sight.

Finally ready, he takes a deep breath and darts out the front door, quickly locking it behind him and then turning… and that's when he sees. That's when the bottom drops out of the universe all over again.

There are at least a dozen Strex enforcers surrounding the front of the house, with a pair of black vans – marked with their orange triangular logo – parked on the roadside. The enforcers themselves – a mixture of men and women – are all wearing that black suit and orange tie combination that Carlos has long come to fear, even if it does make them look a bit like they've dressed to match their vehicles.

Quite a number of them are holding flaming torches. He can't for the life of him work out why they would do that, though has a sneaking suspicion it's for effect.

But all of this pales before the figure standing at their head, just in front of where the front path meets the gate; arms folded across his chest, knife still at his back, and obsidian-dark eyes glittering in the firelight.

It's Kevin.

He looks completely, utterly calm. He – like Carlos – has also changed his clothes, so he doesn't look at all like someone who had incredibly illicit sex less than a couple of hours ago. Carlos, on the other hand, is confident that the terrible truth is writ large across his own face, and even more so when he meets eyes with the other half of said incredibly illicit act.

"Carlos," Kevin says, his voice the very epitome of everything he projects in public: bright, cheery, unflappable and soul-cripplingly in control. "How good of you to join us. I hope we didn't wake you. Then again… it really wouldn't be wise for you to be _sleeping_ here, would it? It does make you rather easy to find…"

"What do you want?" Carlos demands, trying to sound as firm and as level as he can when he's confident he's about to be killed.

"Well, you're never going to believe this," Kevin replies, "but apparently Strexcorp have – in their infinite wisdom and all-knowing beneficence – upgraded your person of interest status. It seems several individuals in Night Vale have reported suddenly saying or hearing the same, strange prophecy, containing a number of… well. _Numbers_. After careful analysis of this prophecy, Strexcorp has determined that you may in fact be of greater value alive than dead… isn't that wonderful? So, that being the case… they've sent me to bring you in. Me… and these delightful enforcers."

Carlos stares, mind just blank with shock. Kevin's betrayed them. _Him_. Maybe because of tonight, or maybe… maybe he was out to get them all along. Maybe Carlos fell for it because he wanted to believe that…

…No. No. Don't think it.

"Now," Kevin goes on, "you can surrender quietly and calmly, or you can resist, and believe me when I tell you, the choice is all yours. I'm more than happy to set a few of these well-trained people on you if you'd like to make things difficult."

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction," Carlos manages, his voice a mostly-level but cracking patina over a mixture of terror and anger. "Besides… if you want to bring me in, you can damn well do it yourself."

Kevin advances on him, every step measured and careful. Carlos wants very much to back away but he won't let himself; forcing himself to stand firm, trying not to blink… at least until Kevin gets close. And then… then Carlos can hardly breathe; the other man's proximity filling him with a need that's just way beyond what he can process right now. A need and a rage, as bright as the noonday sun.

"You should have listened to me," Kevin whispers, as he steps right in, and Carlos is sure he's done it deliberately, so none of the enforcers can hear. "You should have _trusted_ me."

"You sold me out," Carlos replies, just as softly… though perhaps this is because he no longer has the voice for any more. "Obviously I was right not to believe a word you said."

"Well, you should have done," Kevin says. "You should have done."

He puts his hands on Carlos' waist, and Carlos considers jumping back but doesn't quite dare… not when he can't predict how it will make the enforcers react. "Don't," he whispers. "Please."

"Oh, Carlos," Kevin replies, almost wistfully, sliding both hands slowly down over Carlos' sides and slipping them into the front pockets of his jeans. Never mind invasion of personal space, this practically calls for the two of them to be alone. Carlos tries not to flinch, not to blink, but it isn't easy. Isn't easy at all. "Carlos, Carlos," Kevin goes on. "You really are _very_ intelligent. You're just not that smart. You should have been more careful…"

Carlos tries to look like he's refusing to dignify this with an answer, rather than like he now can't find the voice for a single word.

"You'll have plenty of time to think about it, though," Kevin adds, with a flash of a bright smile that seems to be masking another look underneath. "Where you're going… you'll _never_ get out. Not without help…"

He leans in a little closer, so they're pretty much nose-to-nose. "Don't resist," he says. "It will make this worse." And then he lets go of Carlos all at once and steps back, glancing around at the enforcers. "Take him."

And in a whirl of movement, the enforcers move in. Hands grab Carlos from both sides, a dark hood is thrown over his head, and before he knows it he's been manhandled into the back of a van.

Carlos hears the doors slam shut, feels the van start driving.

And he's gone.


	10. The Uncertainty Principle

**The Uncertainty Principle**

_The more you know one thing, the less you can know another._

***

The next howeverlong – time being difficult to work out when you can't see or hear much, and also when it doesn't actually exist – is a blur of indistinct noise and movement; distant voices, and doors.

Eventually – mercifully – Carlos hears another door being opened directly in front of him. Just as he's mentally processing the sound, the hood is pulled from his head and he's pushed forward, into whatever space lies beyond. The door itself is slammed shut behind him, and then… finally… Carlos looks up.

He's in a windowless grey room, which contains some basic furniture but little else. A cell, then. He only has a few seconds to take it in, though, because it's at this point that he realises he's not alone.

He's not alone.

There's someone else here.

"…Carlos?" gasps an incredulous voice. The most welcome voice in all the world.

" _Cecil?!_ " Carlos exclaims.

It's him. Cecil. His Cecil. _He's OK._

They just launch at each other without another word, throwing their arms around each other and pressing in for the firmest, tightest, most desperate hug Carlos thinks he's ever experienced in his entire life. For a very long time he can't let go, the contact too wonderful and too welcome to even think about breaking it.

"I was so scared," Cecil whispers, still holding him tight. "When they grabbed me, I thought they might have got you too… I thought… I…"

His voice cracks, and it's clear precisely what he thought. Carlos can't see his boyfriend's face, but he can hear just how close to tears he is.

"I'm all right," Carlos reassures him. "I'm all right. They… they got me later. I heard what happened to you, and I… Cecil, I thought I might never see you again…"

For another long moment they just hold onto each other, needing the contact more than anything right now. And then, finally, Cecil pulls back, meeting Carlos' eyes at last.

"My family," he asks, with renewed urgency. "Caitlin, Janice… and… and, you know, Steve… what happened to them? Are they OK?"

"I don't know for sure, but I think so," Carlos replies. "I haven't been in touch with them since Larry called to warn me that Strex had grabbed you, but I have been told that they don't…"

Only now everything else hits, pushing past the initial relief at seeing Cecil again; memories of what happened when last they were together, and memories of everything Carlos has done since. And he's confident – not for the first time – that all the terrible truths are writ large across his face, for the world to see.

For Cecil to see.

Carlos tries to step back, tries to break the contact between them because he suddenly feels unworthy of it. Feels… that he shouldn't be indulging in this when Cecil doesn't know the whole truth.

But Cecil doesn't let go; if anything, he holds on tighter, wrapping Carlos in close again. "Don't," he whispers. "Carlos, please. What happened the other night… it doesn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is that you're OK. That's all I care about. Everything else… everything else, we can work through."

"…But you don't _know_ everything else," Carlos whispers, though he stops trying to break free and relents, letting Cecil hold him for however much longer he actually wants to. "There's… I need to… Cecil, I…"

Cecil pulls back just enough to meet his eyes once more. His expression is so complicated; so full of hope and love and fear and concern, and for a long moment Carlos can't say a word.

And then… as if from the abyss at the heart of the universe, the truth just comes tumbling out.

"…I slept with Kevin. Tonight. Earlier. I slept with him. Well. No. There wasn't any actual sleeping, but I… he… we…"

There's a long, long pause, and then Cecil lets go of him, and Carlos is sure this is it. Sure he's just wrecked the best thing to ever happen to him, and it _hurts_. It hurts so deep and so real that he can't even begin to process it, and before he knows it his knees have given way and…

…and Cecil catches him. Catches him and wraps him back in, holding on tight, and the shock of it seems to knock the air into Carlos' lungs again, accompanied by a desperate shudder that runs all the way through him.

"I'm _sorry_ ," he cries. "I don't even know how it happened. You'd been taken and I didn't know who else to talk to and I was so _scared_ so I called him and asked him to come over just so I could find out if he knew anything and we were talking and then… then… then he grabbed me, and I think he was just trying to wind me up but it _worked_ … it really worked… and I… I kissed him and he kissed me back and then… then we… it just…"

"Did he hurt you?" Cecil asks, voice soft and level but full of a sudden danger that's way beyond what Carlos can process right now.

"No," Carlos whispers. "No. If anything… he was as surprised as me. I mean… he was very… very enthusiastic but… I don't think he ever thought I'd… you see? You _see?!_ Even _Kevin_ thinks I've lost my mind and that guy _kills people!_ "

He tries to break free again but Cecil still won't let go, and that's probably the only thing keeping him going right now.

"And you know what the worst part is?" Carlos finally adds. "When… when it was over I realised what I'd done and threw him out, and then a while later when I tried to leave, to go looking for Larry and the others… there he was, outside the house, with…"

"…Wait," Cecil interrupts, "you went _home?_ "

"Oh, don't," Carlos replies. " _He_ berated me about that too. I didn't know where else to go. But when I went outside, there he was, with a whole team of enforcers. He said… he said Strex knows about Fey's number prophecy; that other people have been coming out with it too. Said they'd upgraded me to a person of interest so now they wanted me alive. Said… he was there to take me in. He… Cecil, he betrayed me. I know I shouldn't be surprised, but part of me wanted… wanted to believe that… that he meant what he said, about trying to help us… But he didn't. He didn't. And just for good measure, he carried on trying to wind me up in front of all those enforcers. He… he had his hands…"

The sense memory hits like a wave; the memory of Kevin standing in front of him, hands trailing down his sides, slipping into his pockets… so close and so intimate and so completely, completely…

…And that's when Carlos feels it. Feels what he's been missing all this time.

There's something in his right front pocket. Something he didn't put there.

" _Oh_ ," he whispers, and jumps back, and somehow Cecil seems to realise he's not trying to run away this time and lets him move. "Oh…" he breathes again, sliding his hand into his pocket and finding his fingertips closing around…

…he draws it out.

"…Is that a _key_?" Cecil says, somewhat unnecessarily as it's clearly what it is. "Where did it come from?"

"…I think Kevin put it there," Carlos replies, staring in shock at the key in his hand. It looks old, made of dark, worn metal, with a long barrel and a looped end. "Right before he let the enforcers grab me, he…"

 _Where you're going… you'll_ never _get out. Not without help…_

And Carlos understands. Understands, even though he can hardly process the realisation.

Kevin hasn't betrayed him. He's sent Carlos in here.

He's sent Carlos in here to get Cecil out.

"…He slipped it to you?" Cecil says.

"He must have done," Carlos manages. "I didn't realise at the time, but… he must have done."

"So… he got Strex to want you alive rather than dead, slipped you a key, and got you locked in the same cell as me," Cecil reasons. "Carlos, I think…"

"…Don't say he's trying to help us," Carlos replies, even though he's sure now that this must be the truth. "Don't. I don't think I can take it."

"Then explain that," Cecil says, softly, gesturing to the key that Carlos is still holding.

Carlos stares at it. Stares at it for a long time, eyes following the curve of the loop, the topography of the operational end; like a range of short, blocky mountains.

"…It might not work," he manages, finally. "It might just be to wind me up more."

"Maybe we should try it," Cecil suggests. "Then we'll know."

"There could be dozens of enforcers out there," Carlos reminds him. "Even if it _does_ work, they'd be able to recapture us in moments. Or worse."

But he suspects otherwise. He just doesn't want to engage with the very likely truth that Kevin – in his own warped, _warped_ way – is still trying to help them. He doesn't know _how_ to engage with that very likely truth, and he _certainly_ doesn't know how to engage with the fact that Cecil is far too calm about it.

"…OK," he says, finally. "OK. We'll try it. Just… please don't get killed…"

Cecil reaches to pull him in close again, cupping his face and kissing him. "It's going to be all right," he murmurs. "It's going to be all right, and I love you."

Carlos kisses him back, letting the contact and the words and the warmth all reassure him. Letting them make him believe that maybe… maybe… there _is_ some way out of all this.

Literally and emotionally.

Finally letting go, they approach the door. It's made of dark wood, with a handle and lock in the same heavy, worn metal as the key Carlos is still holding. They grip hands, pausing for one last moment before Carlos reaches out, slipping the key into the lock. It slides into place with a soft clunk, and then… he turns it, feeling the tumblers inside give way perfectly.

"It _worked_ ," he breathes, hardly daring to believe it.

It worked. Kevin has actually sent him in here _with the key_ , to get Cecil out.

What in the name of Einstein is the man playing at?!

But Carlos can't stop to think about this now. Not when he and Cecil are about to be loose in the corridors of some kind of secret Strexcorp facility. He grips his boyfriend's hand tighter, pulls the key back and slips it into his pocket once more, and then… cautiously… opens the door.

They peer out. Beyond, the corridor is narrow and dimly lit; windowless and empty. There's a fair amount of blood on the walls, some of it old and some of it… not. The section of wall immediately opposite their door seems to be painted with three rough triangles… and they, too, are drawn in blood.

"…Are we in Desert Bluffs?" Cecil whispers, tone suddenly shot full of horror.

"I don't know," Carlos whispers back, feeling a similar horror wrap vice-like around his own heart. He hadn't even considered the possibility until now. Hadn't even thought that Strexcorp might choose to bring its most valuable prisoners back to the very centre of its operations.

But it makes sense. Awful, awful sense.

They have no idea which way to go, so they carefully pull the door shut behind them, turn right and start walking, staying very close together and trying to be as quiet as possible. Even so, every step still feels like it's as loud as a thunderclap, alerting everyone to their presence.

No one comes, though. There's no other footsteps; indeed, there's no other sound except a low, distant humming that fills Carlos with renewed dread, although – to be fair – he has more than enough reasons to feel dread without the hum. The more they walk along the dark corridor, the more blood they see, streaked on the walls and pooled on the floor, glittering in what little light there is.

It's like something out of a nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare.

The corridor itself is long and straight, stretching off ahead of them into the darkness. They keep walking, on and on, and still the corridor doesn't stop, doesn't bend. It just keeps going, with door after door on their right, and nothing but rough, blood-streaked wall on their left.

On and on and on until…

Carlos pauses. The section of wall just up ahead is familiar, marked again with those three triangles drawn in blood. "Look," he whispers, pointing.

"The triangles," Cecil replies. "Same as the ones outside our door. You think there might be someone else from Night Vale in there?"

"It's a distinct possibility," Carlos agrees. "Should we… maybe risk looking?"

It would be dangerous, but on the other hand… there could be someone else trapped inside. Someone they can help.

"Yes," Cecil says. "Yes. Just… just be ready to run if this goes wrong."

Carlos nods, and pulls out the key, slipping it into the lock. He feels the tumblers turn inside, feels everything clunk into place, and then…

"…Oh," he murmurs. "I think I just _locked_ it rather than _un_ locked it…"

A little perplexed, he turns the key back, feeling the tumblers slide again, and this time…

…The door opens. Beyond it is an empty cell, and though it's reasonable to assume that there will be other empty cells in this place, something about the exact layout, the angle of the spotlights, the position of the single, rough chair next to the single, rough table… something about it all makes Carlos realise.

"…This is where we started," he whispers, as he slips the key into his pocket again. "This… this is _exactly_ where we started. But we've been walking in a straight line this whole time, so how could we possibly..?"

" _Oh no_ ," Cecil breathes. "Carlos… I think we're trapped in a geographical loop."

Carlos stares at him. "In a _what?_ "

"A geographical loop," Cecil repeats. "We get them round here sometimes. Places that loop back on themselves, so even if you walk in a straight line you always end up where you started."

"…That's impossible, Cecil," Carlos insists, but even as he says the words, he knows it will turn out to be _very_ possible. Regardless of whether they're in Night Vale or Desert Bluffs… either place could allow for something like this.

"I'm afraid it isn't," Cecil says. "And what's worse… we're trapped in a linear corridor, and all the techniques for dealing with geographical loops require you to walk diagonally, which we can't do."

Carlos steps in closer again, feeling a sudden shiver run through him. "So how do we get out?"

"…I don't know," Cecil admits. "There… there must _be_ a way, because the enforcers got us _in_ here in the first place, and unless they're hiding in one of these other rooms, they got out again."

"We could see if any of the doors look different," Carlos suggests, trying to concentrate on solving the problem rather than dwelling on the horror of their actual predicament. "One of them might lead out of here."

"Good idea," Cecil agrees. "You're so smart."

 _Not according to Kevin,_ Carlos thinks, and then wonders if the man really meant it, or if he was just saying it as part of the act, and was it really an act or partly an act, or…

…OK, he needs to stop thinking about it entirely.

They set off down the passageway again, looking at the doors as they go. There's quite a lot of them; all in that matching, oblong design, made of rough, dark wood with old, heavy metalwork. But they're all identical. Every single one is the same. The only difference is the marks in the blood on the opposite wall, most of which are just indistinct streaks.

Eventually… they're back at the three triangles again. They've been all the way round a second time, and not one of the doors has seemed remotely different from any of the others.

"We're trapped," Cecil whispers. "We're _trapped_."

"…Wait," Carlos breathes, suddenly noticing something. "Cecil… look at the door. Look right at the door we first came through. You see it? See the shape it is?"

"Of course I do," Cecil replies. "Carlos, what are you..?"

"Now turn your head," Carlos says. "Turn your head and just… just glance at it out of the very corner of your eye."

"OK, I… _whoa_."

It's clear Cecil has seen it too, now. Something Carlos didn't notice at first. If you just catch the door out of the very corner of your eye… it's a different shape; still made of wood, but obviously oak now, and with a rounded top rather than the blocky oblong it appears as if you look right at it. The handle is different too, no longer made of rough, dark metal but brass instead, a little burnished but still bright in comparison.

"This was our original door, right?" Carlos says.

"Right," Cecil replies.

"That means it should be unlocked," Carlos goes on. "So… keep just glancing at it out of the corner of your eye… and try opening it."

Cecil reaches out, turning the handle and… the door opens. The door opens, and suddenly the passageway is filled with light. Bright, radiant, _black_ light. And standing there, in the opening – which they can now see even if they look right at it – is a tall, winged figure, resplendent and wonderful.

" _Oh my,_ " Cecil whispers. "That's…"

He seems unable to finish his sentence; staring – as Carlos is – at the figure in front of them. And though it's impossible – of course – the fact of the matter remains.

They're looking at an angel.

"Greetings," the figure says, in a smooth and almost genderless voice. "You certainly took your time. We were expecting you at least five minutes ago."

"…Time doesn't exist," Carlos finds himself saying, though he's so transfixed by the figure… by the _angel_ … that he doesn't quite know where the words are coming from.

"Very true," the angel replies. "Nevertheless, you're late. I have a lot to get done today, so we'd better make this quick."

"…Uh… make _what_ quick?" Cecil asks. "Can we… can we maybe come through there? This place isn't exactly pleasant."

It's hard to see precisely what's beyond the door now, but it's clearly no longer an empty cell. There's light; a light other than the glow of the angel. A light that is equal parts alluring and… painful, almost. It pushes at the back of Carlos' eyes, making his head hurt a little.

"That would be unwise," the angel tells him. "You are not meant to see this. Not yet."

"Then… why were you waiting for us, if not to let us out?" Carlos asks.

"Because I can tell you the _way_ out… though, in truth, I think perhaps you know it now. Or, at least, could find it."

"We look out of the corner of our eyes?" Cecil says. "If we try that again, at a different point in the corridor… will it work?"

The angel nods. "Yes. Yes, Cecil, it will work."

"You know my name?" he asks.

"Of course I do. And I think perhaps you know mine."

"…Erica? No… wait… Eri _k_ a. With a K."

The angel nods again. "Quite. There is something else, however. When you leave, there is someone we need you to take with you."

And, without waiting for a response, the angel steps aside. Beyond that radiant form, those glowing wings, is a vast, desert wastescape, with a single mountain at its centre. A mountain atop which is a blinking red light, and beyond which is the brighter, more insistent light that they've been able to feel since the moment the door first opened; a light that _hurts_ the more Carlos thinks about it.

But they don't have long to take all this in because they can also see a second figure standing behind the angel; a figure that seems to glow with a lesser but no less existent aura of its own.

Of _her_ own.

"…Josie?!" Cecil exclaims, voice cracking suddenly with hope and relief.

"Hello, Cecil," says Old Woman Josie. "It's so good to see you again. And you've got Carlos with you… yes, yes, this is going to work out _just_ right."

"How long have you been here?" Cecil now asks. "I thought… we thought Strex had taken you!"

"They did," Josie replies. "Technically… they still have me. They just don't know about some of the doors in here. They're… a little bit special, you see. Or _don't_ see, as I imagine you're discovering. Once I realised I could find them, I've been in and out as necessary. This desert… which is like ours but _not_ ours… is vast and open, but it isn't empty."

"Wait… Dana!" Cecil exclaims. "Is she there? Can we use this to bring her home?"

"She's here," Josie tells them. "But I have been careful not to let her see me. Her journey… follows a different path. It is a different path, and we must not interfere. Until the crucial moment… Former Intern Dana must remain lost. As, in her own way, must Former Intern Maureen."

"… _Two who are lost…_ " Carlos murmurs, suddenly realising.

Josie smiles. "You really are the smart one," she says. "Yes. Oh yes. Dana's day is coming. It is fast approaching, like the light; the light beyond the mountain. I'm sure you can feel that, too…"

"…It hurts," Carlos says, and Josie nods.

"Yes," she replies. "It hurts. It insists. It _devours_."

"…It is a Smiling God…" Cecil says, and then looks surprised. "…I don't know where that came from."

"It came from the truth," Erika replies. "It _is_ the truth."

Carlos suppresses a sudden shudder. "We need to get out of here," he reminds them.

"Indeed we do," Josie agrees. "Thanks, Erika. We'll take it from here."

The angel nods. "Of course. I will see you beyond the end. Beyond the unravelling of all things."

"That you will, dear," Josie says. "That you will."

She steps through the door, into the dark passageway where Cecil and Carlos are still standing, and turns, shutting the door behind her. The instant she does… it's back to being the same oblong shape it was in the beginning.

"Odd place, this," she remarks, looking at the two of them. "We should probably get out. I've been waiting _months_ for this day."

"…If you could use the doors to move around, why not just find one that gets you out of here?" Cecil asks. "Why would you want to stay?"

"I had to be careful. If I fall… so does Night Vale," Josie answers, an odd little edge to her tone that makes Carlos shiver again… not in fear, but in some strange kind of anticipation. "But I'm not the only one. You know that now, surely? Please tell me you know."

"You mean the four from the prophecy?" Carlos has to ask. In many ways he still wishes they didn't have to put so much stead in that prophecy – because it isn't exactly _scientific_ – but the fact remains it seems wholly accurate.

Josie smiles. "Quite," she says. "You know who they are?"

"You, John Peters – you know, the farmer? – Larry Leroy and… and _Steve Carlsberg_ ," Cecil replies.

And now Josie nods. "Indeed. Do you know what the four of us are supposed to do?"

Now both Cecil and Carlos have to shake their heads. "No," Cecil replies. "We haven't been able to work it out. We just know that Strex wants all of you. And me. And… apparently Carlos too, now, but that might have been because of something Kevin did."

"…Perhaps we should get out of here first," Carlos suggests, partly because it _would_ be a good idea, and partly because he really doesn't think he can cope with any kind of discussion about Kevin right now.

"Oh, you're probably right," Josie concedes. "You are the smart one, after all. We need to head along this passageway. Keep looking at the doors the way you did before… just out of the corner of your eye. You're looking for one with _that_ symbol on it."

And she points to the wall, where the three rough triangles are drawn in blood.

"…That's comforting," Carlos manages.

"Not really," Josie replies. "You might want to start preparing yourself emotionally. This next part is not going to be pleasant. This facility… it exists on the edge of reality, but it has an anchor in our world. A fixed point of ingress and egress. That point is on the outskirts of Desert Bluffs."

Everything in Carlos' mind grinds to a halt, suddenly frozen in horror at the thought of being in that place again. He doesn't know how he managed to live there for so many months, but he's confident even just seeing it again is going to be…

Well. Hell on Earth.

"…I've never seen the town itself," Cecil whispers. "Only… only the inside of their radio station…"

"…I've seen it all," Carlos just about manages, which makes Josie look at him in surprise.

"You've _seen_ Desert Bluffs?" she asks.

No point in hiding it. "I used to live there."

Josie actually takes a step back. "You're not… _from_ the place, are you?"

"Merciful Einstein, no. I just lived there for a few months. And then I left, and never, _ever_ went back."

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you, but you're about to see it again," Josie says, putting a hand on his arm. "We all are."

"You've seen it too?" Cecil asks.

"Oh yes," Josie replies. "But not for a very long time. There was… an incident, way back in 1953. It started with the Summer Reading Programme and ended… well. It ended when it ended. Those of us left alive from those days don't like to talk about it." Her eyes go a little distant. "It was quite a summer, though. I was only thirteen…"

Before she can say any more, there's a sound somewhere behind them – and ahead of them – which cuts through the cool air: the sound of a door opening, and of footsteps.

"Oh no," Carlos breathes. "Come on, run!"

So they do, running along the passageway, trying to glance at the doors to their right just out of the corner of their eyes. It isn't easy, not when they can hear someone behind them, someone potentially coming _after_ them, and Carlos can hardly think from the terror, from the thought that they might mess up their one chance.

And then he sees it. "Here!" he says, in a hushed whisper. "This one!"

In direct sight, it's just another non-descript oblong door… but out of the corner of his eye, it's impressive and oak, with a rounded top and a brass handle. And there, carved into the wood, are three triangles.

"Open it!" Cecil exclaims.

Carlos reaches out, grasping the handle… but the door is locked. Panic hits for a second, and then he remembers. "Oh!" he says, pushing his hand into his pocket and tugging out the key.

Behind them, the footsteps are getting louder. Closer. More _resonant_.

Carlos slips the key into the lock and turns it. The door swings open… filling the passageway with deep red light. Deep, familiar red light.

Don't think about it.

Don't think about it.

He pulls the key back from the lock, grabs Cecil's hand and – with Josie right behind – they dive through the door…

…and out into the soft, warm air of the desert at night; rocky ground beneath their feet, and more of that red light up ahead.

Carlos turns. Behind them is the door, standing alone and unsupported by any other structure.

"Close it!" Josie exclaims. "Close it and lock it again, quick!"

They don't need telling twice. Cecil grabs the handle and pushes the door shut, and then Carlos re-locks it. Seconds later, there's footsteps on the other side, and someone – or something – starts hammering on the heavy wood, and obviously trying the handle… although they don't seem able to get the door open.

"…That was close," Cecil breathes.

"…I'm still not sure this was wise…" Carlos manages.

He's turned from the door now and is staring out ahead of them, transfixed in horror by what he's seeing. They're on a low ridge on the outskirts of a town – a town Carlos will never forget and could never mistake.

No matter how hard he tries.

He attempts to say something more; anything more… but the words suddenly won't form. At his side, Cecil turns too, and Carlos can feel the way the other man just _freezes_ at what they're seeing.

The town beyond them is Desert Bluffs, wrapped in the deep cloak of night. It glows, though; glows with a dark, red light that seems to come from its very core. Even at a distance, even in the dimness… Carlos can see the blood that covers every external surface, the viscera draped on the almost skeletal trees.

And he can hear it; that low, sonorous hum. It's louder now; a sound that fills him up, primal and terrible and familiar.

He'd gotten used to it the first time around. But when you _stop_ being used to it, you can't ignore it.

"…We have to get out of here," Cecil finally manages, his voice cracking in unveiled terror.

"It's a long way across the desert," Josie reminds them, with a twinkle in her eyes that suggests she knows more than she's letting on. "The last thing we want is…"

All of a sudden, the whir of helicopter blades cuts the stillness, and they can see two… no, _three_ Strexcorp helicopters lifting into the air from a helipad between them and the town, activating bright searchlights and starting to circle around.

"Run," Cecil breathes, but Josie grabs his arm.

"I'm seventy-four, Cecil," she points out. "I don't do running."

"We need to find somewhere to hide, then," Carlos reasons. "The terrain is rocky. There might be somewhere we can lay low."

They turn, keeping Desert Bluffs – mercifully – behind them and hurry past the door, starting to scramble over the rocks beyond it, heading further up the hillside. There are indeed various outcrops all around, but none of them look large enough to serve as shelter for three people.

And they're going to have to move quickly, because the yellow helicopters are fast encroaching.

"…We're not going to make it!" Cecil exclaims.

"We have to!" Carlos calls back, desperately.

They're moving as fast as they can, but even if all three of them could run flat-out, they can't outrun helicopters.

Carlos can hear the distant thrumming again, the hum of Desert Bluffs, and though it's terrifying… it also has the strangest alluring edge. Calling him back. Calling him in.

No.

 _No_.

And then a new thrum cuts the air as, from beyond the top of the ridge, a fourth helicopter erupts into view. For a second Carlos is sure this is it, sure they're caught, but then he realises that the fourth helicopter isn't like the others. Yes, it's yellow – mostly yellow – but it's battered and worn, as though it's taken multiple hits from some kind of large projectile. The Strexcorp logo on the side has been roughly scratched over and half painted out, and replaced with a daubed purple eye. It matches similar symbols covering the rest of the bodywork, almost like war paint.

The side door of the fourth helicopter slides open and there inside are three figures – three young girls, aged maybe twelve or thirteen – all also daubed with purple and black war paint and holding heavy slingshots.

" _Now!_ " Carlos hears one of them shout.

And they start firing, shooting out a swarm of fist-sized rocks at the encroaching Strexcorp helicopters. This clearly takes the other pilots by surprise, and the first of the three goes into a sudden spin, struggling to maintain altitude. The other two swing around, trying to give the first room to manoeuvre, but in the commotion it leaves the way clear for Carlos, Cecil and Josie to move further up the hillside.

"Come on!" shouts one of the girls inside the fourth helicopter, as it moves lower to the ground – obviously trying to let them in without landing – and only now does Carlos realise that the speaker is Janice. "Come on, run!"

They hurry over to the helicopter, which is now hovering just above the ground, sending a wash of sand and turbulence scattering in all directions. Darting through it, shielding their eyes, they make it to the open door, Cecil and Carlos helping Josie in first, and then scrambling in together.

"Go, go, go!" one of the girls shouts, and the helicopter rises up at once. As it does, the three members of the youth militia – for that is clearly what they are – re-take their positions in the open doorway, firing more rocks out at the Strexcorp helicopters. The first of them – the one that was hit initially – has landed roughly some way off, but the other two are still giving chase.

"Get us higher!" Janice shouts – clearly talking to the pilot – and they quickly rise further, taking the Strexcorp helicopters by surprise, and giving the girls a clear aim at the rotating blades. There's another quick swarm of rocks, and a burst of light as something on the closer Strexcorp helicopter catches fire as it, too, goes into a spin and starts struggling to land.

Well. Not so much 'land' as 'crash less badly'.

The third helicopter apparently takes the hint and backs off and, as it does, their own helicopter circles around and starts tearing away across the dark sand wastes, leaving Desert Bluffs far behind.

After a moment, one of the girls slides the door shut and clunks the lock into place.

"Did we get them all?!" shouts a voice from the cockpit; a voice that is now unmistakeably Tamika Flynn.

"Yep, we got them!" Janice calls back, face breaking into an expression of relief and delight beneath her slightly terrifying war paint.

"How did you find us?!" Cecil exclaims, looking over at his niece from where he and Carlos are still half-sprawled on the floor.

"Long story," Janice says. "Tell you when we land."

And so, for the moment, they settle for staying where they are; sitting close on the floor of a commandeered helicopter piloted by a thirteen-year-old, and racing away across the dark desert with Old Woman Josie watching them, a knowing expression on her face.

It feels like the insane end to an insane day.

But it isn't over yet.

***

The lights of Night Vale – welcome and bright and so normal in comparison – are glowing up ahead as the helicopter finally puts down in the desert, in the shadow of a low gorge. With Tamika leading the way, they all head off across the scrublands – Cecil, Carlos and Josie, plus Janice, Tamika and their two comrades, who turn out to be named Paige and Hannah – finding themselves surprisingly close to Steve Carlsberg's place.

"Are you sure we're safe here?" Carlos can't help asking.

"Wouldn't bring you if I wasn't," is all Tamika will say in reply, but it's surprisingly reassuring (for all it's terrifying too).

When they finally arrive, it's Janice who opens the door, leading them all into the large front room of the house. The second she does, three figures leap up from where they've been sitting at the table: Larry, Caitlin and Steve.

"Masters of us all, you're alive!" Caitlin exclaims, running over to throw her arms around her brother, hugging Cecil tight. "And you too," she adds, letting go of him and practically jumping on Carlos, crushing him in before she lets go. "We've been worried sick and… what _are_ you wearing, young lady?!"

Caitlin's attention has finally reached her daughter, who is – like Paige and Hannah – dressed in her girl scout uniform but with a purple bandana and, of course, all the war paint.

" _Mom_ ," Janice whines, "do we have to do this now?"

Whatever answer this provokes is cut short, however, as Steve immediately launches himself at Cecil, slapping him once across the face and then crushing him in a very tight hug. It lasts only seconds – clearly taking Cecil _very_ by surprise – and then Steve backs off, trying to look as though he never did anything.

"You scared us to death!" he exclaims, glaring at his brother-in-law with an expression that is all confused relief and strenuous denial. "Don't you ever do that again!"

"I didn't exactly _plan_ to get jumped by Strexcorp!" Cecil retorts, glaring back at him. "It isn't how I schedule my day: wake up, eat breakfast, present subversive pirate radio show, _get jumped by Strexcorp!_ "

"…Everybody calm down," Josie interrupts, without raising her voice.

Everyone calms down. Or, at very least, everyone shuts up.

"Much better," Josie goes on. "Now, I think we should all have a seat and discuss this like adults – or, at the very least, sensible young women," she adds, glancing at the four girls. "Perhaps with a nice cup of tea. Or cocoa. Do you have cocoa?"

"We do," Caitlin replies, with a little smile.

Josie grins. "Perfect."

***

It's a little while later, and they're all sitting around the main table in Steve Carlsberg's living room with a mug of hot cocoa each.

"All right," Josie says. "Now. Maybe we should take this from the beginning."

So they do. They start by explaining to her just what's been going on in Night Vale in the last few months. Josie turns out to know more of it than Carlos might have expected, but if she's been travelling about using the doors and talking to angels, that probably isn't a surprise. They also explain Fey's number prophecy, which just makes Josie smile knowingly without elaborating.

And then… they move to the events of the day. Larry apologises profusely to Cecil for letting Strex get hold of him, despite Cecil insisting over and over that there was nothing either of them could have done. Tamika even grudgingly apologises too, looking annoyed at herself for having let Strex get the upper hand.

"It won't happen again," she promises. "We'll double our presence. Plus, now we have the helicopter."

"Tamika wasn't happy when they got you," Janice tells her uncle. "That's how the Ralph's ended up getting burned down."

"The Ralph's got burned down?" Cecil says, looking a little stunned.

"Yep," Janice replies, calmly.

"What?!" Caitlin exclaims. "That was _you?!_ "

Tamika shrugs, expression entirely free of guilt. "It had to be done."

Much of the rest falls to Carlos to explain. He – of course – leaves out the whole part where he had ragingly illicit sex with Kevin, choosing to reduce it all down to _'so I called Kevin because I didn't know who else to go to and he came round, we talked, it didn't end well and then he left…'_ though he's confident that, once more, the terrible truth is writ clearly across his face.

It's strangely easier when they move on to the Strexcorp facility, and the doors, and Josie. Everyone is obviously relieved to see her, especially after their earlier discussion of the prophecy she's part of.

"One thing I still don't get," Carlos says, now looking over at Tamika and Janice. "How did you know where we were?"

Neither one answers. They just both look at Josie.

"I told them," the old woman says.

" _You_ told them?" Steve exclaims. "But… weren't you in _prison?_ "

"Oh yes," Josie replies, calmly. "But I've been using those clever doors. There's more of them than you think; certainly more than Strexcorp wants you to know about. I found one that led into the girl scout clubhouse this evening, so I went and warned these smart young women that we'd need picking up in a few hours."

"But… but if you could just leave… why didn't you?" Larry asks, looking stunned.

"Because then who would have helped these two get out?" Josie replies, gesturing to Cecil and Carlos. "We need them."

"I thought… we rescued you?" Cecil says, looking just as stunned as Larry.

"And you did," Josie answers. "You rescued me, and I rescued you."

"That's a bit recursive," Carlos manages.

"It's very recursive, dear," Josie says. "Sometimes the best things are."

A strange silence descends.

"So what now?" Cecil wonders aloud.

"…Well, there's another complication," Steve says, which makes Cecil scowl at him as if the complication was his fault. "I've been monitoring the daily broadcasts by your _lovely_ evil double. Such a charming guy. Sometime remind me to play you his reminiscences on the Festival of H'ygragagogoth. You won't want to eat for a week."

"Get to the point, Steve," Cecil interjects.

Steve sighs, and hauls a tape player up onto the table.

"…Is that a tape deck?" Cecil exclaims.

"Yes."

"You know it's the twenty-first century, right? We have CDs now. And MP3s."

"Yes. And the government can track you through both of them. You want to stay safe, you use tapes."

Cecil facepalms. Steve scowls at him some more. "Can I get to the point now?"

"I wish you would…" Cecil murmurs.

"Right, then. This is a recording of Kevin's show from earlier today. Well. This is part of it. I won't play you the whole thing. That guy rambles even worse than you do…"

Cecil reaches under the table and clasps Carlos' hand, and it's only when the sudden shock has died down that Carlos realises the other man is trying to reassure him.

And then Steve hits the play button… and Kevin's voice fills the room.

_"…on Tuesday, which is just so fortuitous because that's the afternoon of the pledge drive, and I know it's going to be the best day ever!"_

_"Now, dear listeners, a very important announcement. Lauren, our programme director, briefed me on this during the last commercial break, so it's almost as much news to me as it will be to you. You will recall, I'm sure, the unopening door that appeared in the centre of Night Vale – close to the forbidden Dog Park – just a couple of weeks ago. Since that time, the Strexcorp Management Board has had people working around the clock to try to understand the mystery of this door. To find out what it means and where it came from. To answer that most fundamental of questions…_ why? _Although they haven't revealed everything just yet, they released a statement a short time ago, stating that they will be holding a public press conference at the door itself in two days time. All citizens of Night Vale who are able are asked to attend the conference, which will commence at 3pm on Sunday afternoon. I for one am_ very _excited to hear more about this strange door and the secrets it conceals, and all five of the Management Board – led by the wonderful Derek Hartley himself – will be there to share their discoveries with us all. How thrilling! Perhaps, in what they share with us, the very mysteries of the universe will be unravelled…"_

Click.

Silence.

"You know what's on the other side of that door," Josie says, seemingly the only one able to speak, given that the rest of them are stunned into silence or – in Tamika's case – incoherent rage. "You know. Don't you, Cecil? Carlos?"

"…We know," Cecil manages. "We… we saw it earlier tonight. It is… a light. A light that isn't really a light at all. It is… a Smiling God."

"This is it," Larry breathes. "This is the end. Isn't it?"

"I fear so," Cecil says. "We're going to need to act fast."

"Agreed," says Tamika. "I'll rally the militia. Get all our forces together. By the time 3pm on Sunday rolls around, we'll be ready."

"I'm coming with you," Janice chips in.

"Us too!" Paige and Hannah both add.

"You all be careful," Caitlin insists, in the firm but worried voice of a parent left with no choice but to let their child face the dangers of the world head-on. "Promise me, Janice."

"I promise, Mom," Janice replies, tone serious for once.

"I'll get on the internet forums," Steve says. "Warn all our people across town and tell them to be ready."

"I'll do the in-person stuff," Larry adds. "Josie, want to give me a hand?"

"Certainly, dear," she agrees. "I might even be able to speed it up by showing you a few more of these doors…"

"How many are there, even?" Larry asks.

Josie smiles, distantly. "Lots."

"And what about us?" Cecil says. "I don't think I should risk broadcasting again." There's a sadness in his voice at this, and Carlos knows just how much Cecil misses it.

But there's a more pressing matter at hand.

"…We can't do this without John Peters – you know, the farmer?" Carlos says, softly, as the weight of his realisation sets in. "We're going to have to go and find him."

Cecil stares. _Everyone_ stares.

"But… he's…" Cecil tries.

"Yes," Carlos replies. "Yes. We're going into the house that doesn't exist."

"How? I thought you said your scientists couldn't work out how to get in?"

"They can't. But now… I think I can."

And Carlos reaches into his pocket, slipping something out and laying it on the table.

The key.

The key to it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was midway through writing this chapter when Episode 46 ( _Parade Day_ ) aired, leading to those aforementioned emotional breakdowns when canon started covering the doors in more depth. I also loved all the allusions about Josie, hence why I decided to go with her using the doors to move around (originally, the boys were just going to find her and rescue her, but I thought this worked better because it plays into Josie's mysteriousness more, and that's something I really love about her).


	11. Newton's First Law of Motion

**Newton's First Law of Motion**

_An object at rest will remain at rest unless acted on by an external force._

***

It's late.

Well, no. It's early.

In truth, Carlos doesn't know what time it is. He knows it was after midnight when Strex abducted him, and that it must have been at least 4am by the time they made it back to Steve Carlsberg's place.

Now… now it must be after 5am, or whatever passes for 5am in a town where time doesn't work. Beyond the windows, behind the curtains, light is tickling the edge of the horizon, heralding another dawn.

Everyone has finally gone off to bed, accepting that they at least need to get a few hours' sleep before launching into whatever the new day will bring. Well. Almost everyone has gone to bed. Janice has already left with Tamika, Paige and Hannah, despite her mother's insistence that a few hours' sleep would be sensible. Josie is now in the little guest room upstairs, next door to Steve and Caitlin, and Larry has moved out to the camp bed in Steve's internet-monitoring shed.

Which leaves Cecil and Carlos, back on the fold-out couch bed in the living room.

It's been barely more than twenty-four hours since they were last here, having that awful conversation that Carlos can't even bear to think about now, and yet it seems like a lifetime ago.

They lie down together, Carlos curling in close, the contact so wonderful and so welcome that, for a long moment, he just lets himself enjoy it. Lets himself enjoy it until the rest of the world starts to push through the silence, leaving his mind suddenly racing again.

He slides free of the other man's embrace and sits up, staring out into the darkness.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Cecil asks, softly, sitting up too and moving in behind him, wrapping a gentle arm around his waist again.

Not letting him run this time. That helps.

"I don't know what to say," Carlos whispers. "I don't know how or where to begin. I… don't even know why you aren't mad."

"In a way… I am," Cecil replies, and somehow that's more of a relief to hear than anything else, even despite the sudden renewed vice of guilt around Carlos' heart. "But at the same time, I'd be foolish to think this was just a simple case of you jumping into bed with someone else. This isn't just someone else. This is… this is my double. Your ex. The three of us are… we're all wrapped up in this, now. You and me and… and Kevin."

"I thought you hated him," Carlos manages. "I thought… you were _terrified_ of him."

"I do," Cecil replies. "I am. But… it isn't as simple as that. Everything he does, everything he says… it's _me_. It's _us_. We're connected, and I _do_ hate that. But I also… I also sort of _don't_."

"What are you saying?" Carlos asks.

"I'm saying… I still have no idea how to process this," Cecil admits. "I just know that I love you, and I believe you when you tell me you love me, and right now… right now that's all I care about."

"…I need you," Carlos whispers. "I've needed you all night. Needed you to…"

"…To take you back?" Cecil murmurs in his ear, in that voice that makes the world invert.

" _Yes_."

"Then I will. Even though… I never let you go."

And all of a sudden he pulls Carlos around, flipping him gently down onto his back and slipping into place on top of him. The movement comes from out of nowhere, taking Carlos a little by surprise, but it's all good surprise.

Really, really good.

"I thought you said we couldn't do this here?" Carlos says.

"So I did," Cecil agrees. "But I think perhaps just this once, if we're very… very quiet…"

" _Please_ ," Carlos whispers, the need suddenly burning through him. "Please. Take me back. _Claim_ me back. Give me _absolute_ empirical proof that I'm all yours…"

"You _are_ all mine," Cecil replies, tone soft and sure. " _All_ mine. As I am all yours…" He slides a hand down between them, fingertips trailing over Carlos' skin, working his pyjama trousers out of the way and then starting to slowly, _slowly_ stroke him.

" _Please_ ," Carlos says again, the word little more than a gasp this time, as the stimulation hits all at once. He drops his head back, baring his throat, which is all the invitation Cecil needs to start kissing him on the curve of his neck, where it will most drive him insane.

Carlos loves that. He wants to be pushed right out of his own head, into the cool, welcome blackness that lies beyond. He wants… he _wants_.

And it's clear that Cecil can feel it too, because he presses in, eyes intense and wonderful, stroking Carlos faster, harder; lips ghosting up the side of his neck and over his jaw, finally kissing him deeply.

Carlos wants to cry out, but he can't – not if they're being quiet – so the kiss is a welcome distraction, to say nothing of wonderful in its own right. When it breaks, their breath is hot against each other's lips, Carlos' becoming more and more ragged as Cecil doesn't let up the pace.

"I love you," Carlos manages, a whisper on the point of cracking.

"I know," Cecil whispers back, so sure and so certain. "I know. I love you too. I think you've always been a little scared by that… but you don't have to be."

Carlos' next words are almost impossible to say. Almost impossible, until they tumble out of their own accord. "What if… what if I _want_ to be?"

This makes Cecil press in closer, so they're nose-to-nose, eyes going suddenly dark in precisely the same way Kevin's do when… when he's…

…don't think it. Don't think it. Or _do_.

"…That would be a different story," Cecil says, moving to speak soft and low, right into Carlos' ear. "I could tell you things… things that you need to hear. I could tell you that I won't let you go. That nothing – not anything, not them, not _him_ – will ever pull us apart. That twice now I've thought I'd lost you and that I won't let there be a third time. That if he comes near you again… he'll answer to _me_."

It's the possessiveness, more than anything, that finally undoes Carlos; the way those words slip gloriously over him, making him feel everything he needs to feel. Held. Caught. Wanted. _Safe_.

" _Please_ ," he whispers. "Please…"

And it's a soft litany of need that slips his lips as he comes, the world going first black and then white in two great, rolling waves of completion and bliss. He doesn't cry out, somewhere between remembering to be quiet and not having the voice to do anything more, managing instead to wrap his arms up around Cecil and hold on tight, face pressed into the curve of his lover's neck.

When it's all finally over, he doesn't let go. He almost can't. He needs to hold on, as if the very fabric of the world might tip him off otherwise.

"I love you," he murmurs. "I love you."

"I know," Cecil whispers back. "Relax. Rest. I've got you."

Carlos looks up, a sudden urgency in his eyes, even though it's hard to look urgent when he feels so good and still and peaceful. "But I… I haven't…" Reciprocated. He hasn't reciprocated yet, and he'd very much like to.

Cecil lays gentle fingers over Carlos' lips. "I can wait," he says. "You're more important. Just relax and let me hold you, for as long as you need."

It does feel good. So very, very good. And Carlos knows that he hasn't really slept for the best part of two nights now.

And in moments, he's drifted off in Cecil's arms.

***

When Carlos finally wakes, he's vaguely aware that it's properly light now; that the glow of the sun is spilling into the room through the gap between the curtains. Everything is still quiet, though, and there's no sound of movement from upstairs. But he wouldn't be surprised to find himself the first one awake – even after far too little sleep, his mind has a tendency to spring back into action faster than most.

He's still lying curled against Cecil. They've rolled onto their sides… or maybe Cecil did that deliberately, Carlos isn't sure… but little more, and for a long moment he just stays where he is, enjoying the contact. It helps. It helps a lot.

Cecil is – for once – still asleep, though Carlos can't help thinking that now would be a good time to wake the man up. Very, very gently, he rolls Cecil onto his back and slips into place on top of him, sliding a hand down between them and starting to stroke him slowly whilst kissing softly along his jaw.

The other man blinks his eyes open almost at once, staring sleepily up at Carlos. "Hey, you," he murmurs.

"Hey," Carlos whispers in reply.

"…That feels good…"

Carlos smiles. "I thought it might."

He speeds up a little, which makes Cecil rock his head back, baring his throat invitingly. Carlos presses in to kiss up the side, firmer now, getting several more murmurs of appreciation for his trouble… and _oh_ but the other man is _hot as hell_ when he's like this.

"I love you so much," Carlos whispers, the words tumbling out with just how desperately he means them; how desperately he loves the man beneath him, the man he'd do anything for.

"I love you too," Cecil replies, reaching to rest a hand on the side of Carlos' face, guiding him down to kiss. "Don't ever forget that. I've loved you since the moment we met."

And Carlos knows he means it, even if it's sometimes strange to remember. When he looks back on that day… mostly he remembers freaking out. It was a long time before he understood what he was feeling, whereas Cecil just _knew_.

He wonders what it's like, to have such certainty.

"I know," Carlos says. "I know. Thanks for waiting for me to catch up…"

"I'd wait for you _forever_ if I had to."

The fervour in his voice is breathtaking, and Carlos speeds up even more, suddenly desperate to give the other man _everything_.

His own eyes have gone dark. He doesn't know it, but they have.

And all of a sudden, Cecil is coming beneath him, arms wrapped up to hold on, gasping sharply – maybe even stifling a cry – as completion overtakes and thunders through. "Carlos," he whispers, " _Carlos_ ," and he sounds almost _raptured_ , making Carlos press in to kiss him again, soft and gentle and over and over until Cecil finally goes still and collapses down against the bed.

Carlos kisses him once more and then grins a little, curling in close.

"Morning…" he says, with a sudden brightness.

"Feel free to wake me up like that any time you want," Cecil replies, with a hazy smile.

"I thought you'd approve…"

They lie as they are for a few moments, tangled together, needing nothing but the closeness and the contact, and it feels like they could just stay this way forever.

But the world begins to intrude; memories of what has gone before and knowledge of what's to come. All Carlos knows is he can't face it without Cecil. He can't. And he won't have to.

"…We should probably get up," he murmurs.

"Mmmm. Or we could just stay here."

"Cecil… much as I'd happily lie here with you for hours, we do sort of have to save the world."

This doesn't have the effect Carlos was hoping for. In fact, it just makes Cecil curl in more, looking determined not to move.

"Seriously… we should get up."

Still nothing.

"…Do you _want_ Steve Carlsberg to come wandering in and see you lying here with _that_ grin on your face?"

Silence.

"…Oh, fine," Cecil concedes.

***

It's mid-morning by the time Cecil and Carlos make it to the house that doesn't exist.

They take Carlos' car – given that they still don't have Cecil's – but Cecil drives so that Carlos can phone Toby. He gets through to the other scientist and gives the codeword they're using to prove it's safe to talk ('potassium oxide', which is quite possibly the worst science pun Carlos has ever heard; doubly so because it doesn't entirely work).

And by the time they pull up on the roadside in the Desert Creek development, Toby is already there, with four other members of the team. They've arrived in one of the white fieldwork vans and are already setting up on the curb, staring across at the house that doesn't exist in all-too-familiar trepidation.

"Carlos!" Toby exclaims, as Carlos and Cecil step from the car and head over.

"Hey, Toby," Carlos replies. "Hey, everyone. Oh, introductions, introductions, you haven't all met Cecil before, have you? Everyone, this is Cecil. Cecil, you know Toby, of course, and Arlene, and then this is Vincent, and Hayley, and that's Frederick."

The scientists all nod. Carlos can tell they're trying not to act nervous but – given what they're here to do – it's hard not to be. Well. All except Frederick, who wouldn't get nervous if trapped in a cave with a tiger. He might, however, try to work out how to weaponise it.

"You're seriously going to do this?" Toby asks, looking up at the house. "You're actually going _in_ there?"

"Yes," Carlos answers. "We are actually going in there. What will happen when we do… I don't know. But we have to try. We need to find John Peters – you know, the farmer?"

"He's been in there for months, Carlos," Hayley points out. "Months! He's probably insane or stuck in a time loop or both!"

"I still say we should have tried my temporal inversion beam first," Frederick grouses. "It would _so_ have worked."

"Frederick, you burned down half the lab!" Arlene insists. "And all the clock did was tick more loudly!"

"Oh shush, it just needed re-calibrating," Frederick replies. "I could have made it work given another couple of hours and a spot more plutonium."

"…We're all going to die," Vincent keeps murmuring. "We're all going to die and wake up in the real world…"

Carlos facepalms. The experimental science part of his job is not nearly as challenging as the scientist-wrangling part, and on days like this it's obvious why.

"…Look," he says. "Cecil and I are going in there. I need you to keep monitoring the house whilst we do. Watch for anything odd."

"Define 'odd'," Toby asks.

"…Not normal?" Carlos suggests.

"Define 'normal'!" Frederick pushes.

Carlos puts his hands on his hips. "…Do you lot want to come in there with us?"

"No."

"No."

" _Definitely_ not."

"Heck, no."

"…I suppose it could be interesting if…–"

"Frederick?"

"Yes?"

"Shush."

This is what Carlos has to deal with all the time. He suspects people don't believe it until they see.

Giving them one last look, he and Cecil turn and start walking up the path towards the house that doesn't exist. It _seems_ like it exists – like it's right there when you look at it – and it's between two identical houses so it would make more sense for it to be there than not.

But it doesn't actually exist.

Just as they get close to the front door there's movement off to the side, and a figure walks into view around the edge of the house: a figure wearing eye-watering plaid and a straw hat.

Carlos stares in surprise, hearing the gasps of shock from the scientists by the roadside.

The man in front of him is John Peters.

"Well, hey there," the newcomer says, the barest flicker of confusion in his eyes that he's obviously trying to hide.

"Uhm… hi," Carlos manages. "I… aren't you supposed to be trapped inside this house?"

"Sure I am," comes the reply. "But I got out. I think that's got to be significant. Is something big about to happen..?"

Before Carlos can answer, however, Cecil has put a hand on his waist and pulled him back, away from the man in front of them both. "Carlos," he whispers, "that is _not_ John Peters."

"I know," Carlos replies, and he does. He's sure of it. The man in front of them can't be John Peters. He can't have gotten out of the house just like that.

But why is he here? And if he's waiting for them – which seems alarmingly likely – how did he know they were coming?

"Of course I am," the man insists, obviously trying to give a jovial little smile. "I'm John Peters, the farmer you know."

But he isn't. He isn't the farmer they know. He isn't the farmer they know at _all_.

"…This place has a back door, right?" Cecil whispers.

"Right," Carlos replies.

"Good. Run."

They both take off running, darting away around the side of the house. The plaid-clad man who is most assuredly _not_ John Peters immediately races after them, chasing them down the path between the non-existent house and the actual building beside it.

"We need to get inside!" Cecil calls. "Have you got the key?"

"Yes!" 

"OK, quick!"

They reach the back door of the house. It looks completely normal… at least until you glance at it out of the corner of your eye. And then, it becomes old and oak, with a rounded top and a brass handle. Trying to move as quickly as he can, Carlos jams the key into the lock, turning it.

And that's when non-John jumps on Cecil. They both hit the ground and roll over the grass, just as Carlos manages to get the door open. Leaving it that way – leaving it open and beckoning them into an empty hallway with a wooden floor – he pockets the key and turns, hurrying to grab non-John and try to pull him back, somehow finding the strength to throw him off Cecil and away to the side.

The plaid-clad impostor staggers to his feet, trying to go for Cecil again. "Run!" Carlos shouts. "Run for the door!"

"You'll never find him!" the farmer they _don't_ know declares. "Not in _that_ house!"

"You just watch us!" Cecil retorts, grabbing hold of Carlos and tugging him along, making a run for the door.

They can hear the third man coming after them, but they make it to the open entrance, slamming the door shut behind them and collapsing against it, in case they need to hold non-John off.

But all is suddenly silent. There's no knocking or hammering on the door, or any sounds from outside.

Nothing.

"…This is _creepy_ ," Cecil murmurs, rising to his feet and helping Carlos up too.

"Tell me about it," Carlos agrees, taking a couple of steps along the passageway they're in but not wanting to move further away from Cecil. "Stay close to me," he urges. "We don't know what this place might try to do."

The hallway they're in is long and empty; certainly far longer than it ought to be, given the size and shape of the house on the outside. Or, at least, how it appears, given that it doesn't actually exist. It has a wood-panelled floor and similarly-panelled walls, giving the impression that they're in a large cabin rather than a new-build detached suburban house.

It's completely silent, with none of the sounds you would expect to hear inside a normal home – the creak of pipes or the low thrum of an air-conditioner – and the more Carlos listens, the more the _nothing_ becomes oppressive.

"This way," he says, gesturing down the passage to a door at the end, just off to the left. They start to move down to it, keeping close together, looking around as they go.

There isn't much to see, though. The hallway is completely empty, save for a couple of pictures on the wall: photographs of a lighthouse seen from different angles. Catching one out of the corner of his eye, Carlos is sure he sees a flash of red light… but when he looks back it's gone, even if he isn't staring directly at it.

They make it to the door, and Cecil reaches to slowly push it open. Inside… is another empty room, wood-panelled and windowless. They step through, the door drifting shut behind them, looking around.

"OK, this place is weird," Cecil says. "There's just… nothing here. Nothing but these photos…"

There are more of them in this room: photos of lighthouses and occasionally photos showing old, warped windows, all without any explanation. They stand staring at them for a few moments, as if the answer might suddenly present itself… but it doesn't.

"Which room is John in, anyway?" Cecil asks, eventually.

"Well, that's the thing," Carlos replies. "From the shape of the house and what we've been able to observe from outside… I thought it was this one."

"…That doesn't sound good," Cecil says.

"Not good at all," Carlos agrees. "I really would have wanted more time to study this place before risking coming inside, but it's not as though we had a choice. We should… just be careful. I mean really careful. Let's… let's go back into the hall and see if there's another door we missed."

They head over to the door and open it… and the moment they do, Carlos feels his stomach lurch with shock. There's a hallway on the far side; wood-panelled and empty… but it isn't the same one they came in from. On the contrary, this one stretches out ahead, rather than to the right, and is lined with more of the lighthouse pictures.

"…Merciful Einstein," Carlos breathes. "That's… that's not…"

He shuts the door, pauses in the hope that reality might somehow start to behave itself… and then opens the door again.

"…Oh, that's bad," Cecil murmurs. "That's really bad."

Now there's a different room on the other side of the door, a room that is neither of the two hallways that were there before. This time, it's a small, square space with low lighting… and a stairway leading downwards.

"What do we do?" Cecil asks. "If the rooms change every time we close a door… how do we find John?"

"And moreover, how do we get _out?_ " Carlos adds, with a little shiver. "Maybe we need to start marking the rooms and see if there's any kind of…–"

He's cut off in mid-sentence – and, indeed, mid-thought – by a sudden sound from downstairs; a sound that echoes up towards them through the stairwell.

It's a shout; three words in a language Carlos doesn't recognise.

Three words in a voice Carlos _does_ recognise.

And it seems he's not the only one. "…That sounded like _Kevin_ ," Cecil whispers, his eyes darkening.

"…Y-yeah…" Carlos manages. "Maybe we should shut the door again and hope we end up somewhere…–"

" _I_ need to have _words_ with that man…" Cecil declares, heading forwards through the door before Carlos can stop him.

Having no other choice – not if he wants to avoid losing Cecil in this insane place – Carlos hurries after him, into the dimly lit stairwell and down. At the bottom is another small, darkened hallway with a single door in it; a door that's been propped ajar. Light is glowing from beyond it, flickering and bright, though it starts to diminish almost at once, fading back.

"…We don't need to go in there," Carlos whispers, nigh-on imploringly. "Cecil… please…"

Cecil shakes his head and grips Carlos' arm. "I love you," he whispers in reply. "But I have to do this."

And, taking a deep breath, he stalks over to the door and pushes it sharply open.

Beyond is another wide, square room that seems somehow too large to fit inside the house, at least if you consider the external perspective. Like all the other rooms it's wood-panelled, though there aren't any photographs on the walls.

And that's probably for the best. The room is covered in quite a lot of blood. There's a huge circle drawn on the floor in what looks like charcoal: a circle containing a broad pentagram, with a number of indecipherable symbols between its five points. Smaller versions of the entire twisted motif are drawn on opposite walls, along with a number of other different emblems and what look to be words, in a language Carlos can't even identify, never mind read.

The room itself is windowless, lit by brackets of candles at all four walls. The scent of the wax cuts the air, mixing with a sharp, coppery tang that seems as though it should be stronger, given all the blood.

The instant they step in, the room's single occupant turns at once from where he's been standing on the edge of the huge symbol on the floor, silver-bladed knife held out in front of him almost defensively.

"…You?!" Kevin exclaims, surprise flashing in his dark eyes as he lowers the weapon.

" _You_ ," Cecil growls, stepping up to his double and – once again – slapping him roughly across the jaw before Kevin can react. "Did I not tell you to stay away from my boyfriend?!"

Kevin backs off a little, holding the knife up again. " _He_ called _me_ ," he hisses in reply, glaring at Carlos for a second before returning his attention to Cecil.

Cecil folds his arms. "I think you are failing to notice the part where these things happen because _you_ wind my Carlos up in the first place, Kevin!"

"I think _you_ are failing to notice the part where your Carlos has _tastes_ , Cecil," Kevin retorts. There's not a flicker of cheeriness in his voice now and it's infinitely more terrifying to _not_ hear than to hear.

And it's pretty terrifying to hear.

"Will the two of you stop?!" Carlos exclaims, cheeks flushing red.

"I'm not done with him yet!" Cecil replies, turning his glare on Kevin again. "And not only did you _seduce_ my Carlos, you then proceeded to _betray_ him to Strexcorp!"

"So that he could rescue _you!_ " Kevin insists, a flicker of hurt in his eyes. "I slipped Carlos the key right before the enforcers grabbed him and then made sure they locked him up with you. Do you know how hard it is to get hold of one of those keys? What I had to _do?_ And it worked, didn't it? You got out faster than I expected! The sun hadn't even risen before the enforcers were going _ballistic_ and the Management Board was calling people in to give them severance packages!"

"…I don't want to know what constitutes a severance package in Strexcorp, do I?" Carlos murmurs.

"No, Carlos, you don't," Kevin replies, flatly. "If I told you, you'd do that thing where you flip out and run off again, and I don't know how much more of that I can take."

"And now," Cecil cuts back in, "now you're in the house that doesn't exist, doing…" He looks around, before gesturing widely at the insane, blood-streaked room. "Just what _are_ you doing?"

"If you _must_ know, I was performing a very ancient and powerful ritual," Kevin tells him. "It wasn't easy and it's a good thing you didn't interrupt sooner, because you don't want to know what side-effects that might have caused."

"What kind of ancient and powerful ritual?" Cecil demands.

Kevin gives him an odd look. "It's _personal_ ," he insists. "If you must know, I was communing with my demon."

"And you needed to break into the house that doesn't exist to do that?" Carlos now asks, because something about all this doesn't add up.

"I didn't break in, I have a key," Kevin replies, pulling something from under his shirt where it hangs around his neck: an old, metal key on a long cord. A key that's almost identical to the one in Carlos' pocket. "And yes, I needed to do it here. I needed to do it somewhere that _no one_ would be able to detect. Where better than in the basement of a non-existent house?"

"…Why?" Carlos asks, very suspiciously.

"Because it's _private_ ," Kevin re-iterates.

There's something going on here. There's something _unprecedented_ going on here, but Carlos can't work out what.

"And where did all the blood come from?" Cecil now asks, still looking thoroughly unimpressed. "Have you been murdering people again? There had better not be bodies in the closet."

"There isn't a closet in here," Kevin points out. "And the blood came from the Fourth Infernal Plane. There's a _lot_ of blood on the Fourth Infernal Plane and it tends to seep through if you try to hold a gateway open for longer than a couple of seconds."

"You were holding open a gateway to the Fourth Infernal Plane?!" Cecil exclaims.

"I _told_ you, I was _communing with my demon!_ " Kevin replies, going more than a little high-pitched.

"Will you both _stop?!_ " Carlos tries again.

There's a very long, very difficult silence.

"…Better," Carlos says, taking a deep breath. "Now. I think we need to discuss this sensibly and rationally and using our _indoor_ voices."

"What is there to discuss?" Kevin asks, sounding calmer and cheerier now, albeit with an undertone that is neither. "I assume you're here for John Peters?"

"That's right," Cecil replies, also calmer but still terse. "So we can save the town from your maniac employers."

" _Unfortunately_ ," Carlos cuts across, before Kevin can start an argument about the relative morality of Strexcorp, "this house seems to defy physics on an alarming scale."

"Oh, _that?_ " Kevin says, with a little wave, as he finally slips his knife back into its sheath with a lingering, suspicious look at Cecil. "That's just one of its little quirks."

"You've been here before?" Carlos can't help asking.

Kevin shrugs. "Several times, since I came to town. It reminds me of the house I grew up in… and I _miss_ Desert Bluffs, you know. Even though Night Vale is lovely too. Plus, sometimes I need to go somewhere… _off the grid_."

"Wait… this is where you wanted to bring us that day?" Cecil asks, looking surprised.

"That's right," Kevin replies. "You're just lucky they're not paying undivided attention to you, or they would have realised you were staying with _your own sister_ ages ago. It isn't exactly _covert_ , Cecil."

"Worked though, didn't it?" Cecil points out.

"Yes. It worked. Someday I'll tell you where I hid all the bodies to make _sure_ it worked…"

Carlos rubs a hand over his eyes. "I don't want to know," he murmurs. "I don't want to know…"

"So if you've been here before… you must know the way out," Cecil now says, giving Kevin an odd look.

Kevin smiles. "That's right," he says, smoothly, and apparently well-aware of how the balance of power has just shifted in his favour. "I know where John Peters is too. I could take you to him, if you'd like…"

"Yes," Cecil replies. "That would help matters along."

Kevin's smile brightens. "Say _please_."

Cecil glares. " _Now_."

This makes Kevin fold his arms, looking immoveable. "You want my help, you're going to have to be nice to me for once. Otherwise, good luck trying to get out of this place, never mind locate the farmer you know…"

This in turn makes Cecil glare all the more. "I do _not_ have to be nice to you," he retorts.

They're squaring up to each other again, and Carlos knows it's only a matter of time before someone gets hit. Or worse. But even so… it's a different impulse that makes him step suddenly between them, Cecil behind him and Kevin in front, staring him down with as much emotional weight in his eyes as he can manage.

" _Please_ ," Carlos says, the word cold and wonderful and terrifying all at once.

Kevin's breath visibly catches, and Carlos is sure that Cecil's does too, and _merciful Einstein_ , this was a _bad_ idea.

…Or a really, _really_ good one…

…No, that image needs to go away now. Right now…

"…All right," Kevin replies, smoothly, reaching to put a hand on Carlos' arm at precisely the same moment that Cecil puts a hand on his waist… and in that instant, Carlos feels the strangest shot of heat roll through him, just for the barest second…

… _Stop thinking about it!_

And then – perhaps mercifully – the moment passes and Kevin steps back. "Come along, then," he says, brightly. "We just need to head upstairs and I'll show you where…"

He trails off, finally turning to look at the door, which apparently fell shut after the two of them stormed in here.

"… _Seriously?_ " Kevin exclaims. "I prop the door open and you just let it close without even stopping to think why I might do something like that?"

"I had other things on my mind!" Cecil replies, tone a little defensive.

Kevin folds his arms again. "Evidently! This might take somewhat longer now. I hope you're happy."

" _Euphoric_ ," Cecil answers, dryly.

Shaking his head, Kevin paces over to the door and pushes it open. Beyond there is no longer a stairwell, but a long, thin passageway stretching past blank walls to another door at the far end. It's just as dimly lit, though, with an ominous air that's far more pronounced.

"…Yeah, we don't want to go down there," is Kevin's response.

"Why not?" Cecil asks.

"Well, you know before when we were talking about bodies..?"

"Yes?"

"…We don't want to go down there."

Carlos gives a little shudder. "This house was an important scientific curiosity!" he exclaims. "Please tell me you haven't filled it with bodies?"

"…Not all of it…"

Before the conversation can get any worse, Cecil reaches to shut the door, pauses, and then opens it again.

Now they're looking out at another stairwell, but it's more brightly lit. It also leads _down_ , not up.

"…I thought we were in the basement?" Carlos says.

Kevin sighs. "We were. But you shut the door. When you shut the door, the house has a tendency to… reorganise itself. It can do that, you see, because it doesn't actually exist."

"So how do we get out?" Cecil asks.

"You keep the doors propped open!" Kevin replies. "Though as a last resort, you can also bring along someone who has explored the house at length before. Which, in this case, would be me. So stay close and _don't_ touch any doors without asking me first!"

Cecil glares at him. Carlos just shuts his eyes for a moment and counts slowly to ten.

"…He's adorable when he does that, isn't he?" Kevin says to Cecil, bright again.

Cecil doesn't answer. Kevin flashes him a smile and steps through the door, gesturing for them to follow.

Well. It's got to be better than staying in here.

***

'Better', it turns out, is a bit of a stretch.

Yes, they're no longer in a room filled with blood and painted with some kind of demon-summoning symbols that it really is best not to think about, but now they're walking through the house that doesn't exist with Kevin, and that's problematic in its own right.

He leads them through several rooms, and down more flights of stairs than seems _possible_ , until – finally – they reach a passage with the door at the end propped open and a little sun chalked on the wall next to it.

"Aha, thank goodness," Kevin says, bouncing on his heels. "This way."

He leads them through the door and into a hallway: a hallway with a different door off to the right, under which what looks like daylight is glowing.

"Is that the front door?" Carlos asks.

"Yep!" Kevin tells him. "Told you."

"What about John Peters?" Cecil cuts in. "You know, the farmer?"

Kevin pats him on the arm, which makes Cecil glare at him again. "As if I'd forget something so important," he says. "Follow me."

And, rather than going up to the front door, he crosses the hall and approaches another door on the far side. But, instead of opening it, he knocks on it three times.

"…What are you doing?" Carlos asks, undeniably intrigued.

"Well, sometimes it's easier to travel through these particular doors if there's someone on the other side to open them for you," Kevin explains. "That way, you end up where you wanted to be. Plus, John is trapped in a _very_ odd little time loop that doesn't even fit with the logic of the rest of the house. If you don't get him to let you in, but you manage to find the room where he is anyway… you sort of end up there but not there. OK, no, it's more that _he's_ there but not there. You can see him but he can't see you, and you can't make any kind of physical contact."

"…You have spent way too much time in this place," Carlos mutters.

Kevin grins. "Actually not as long as you think. Time doesn't run at the same speed in here as it does out in the world. From what I can tell… it's about eight times faster inside the house." He beams even brighter. "Are you impressed?"

"'Deeply concerned' would be closer," Carlos replies. "So for every minute that passes on the outside, eight minutes pass in here?"

"Roughly speaking, yes. Not for John, though. I can't even begin to fathom how it works for John."

"And you wanted us to _hide out_ in this place?" Cecil now interjects.

"Sure I did," Kevin replies. "Think how much you could get done if time outside is passing so much slower. How much you could have _planned_."

"…Also time doesn't exist," Carlos can't help adding, partly just in the hopes of stopping Cecil and Kevin from devolving into another argument. "So exactly what all this is… I don't know."

"Probably best not to ask," Kevin suggests, brightly.

Carlos gives him a flat look. "I'm a scientist. I can't _not_ ask."

This just gets him another flat look in return, before Kevin turns back to the door and knocks on it again.

This time, seconds later – or whatever passes for seconds in this temporal mess – there's three knocks in reply, and then the door opens.

Beyond is another wood-panelled room; empty save for a number of photographs of lighthouses and windows on the otherwise window _less_ walls. And, indeed, save for the man standing in front of them: a man in eye-watering plaid, with a straw hat and a surprised look.

"…What the heck is going on?" asks John Peters.

…You know, the farmer?

"John!" Cecil exclaims. "That's really you, isn't it?"

"Near as I can tell," John replies, with a shrug. "And that's you, as opposed to… you know, _him?_ "

"I am standing right here!" Kevin exclaims. "And I just brought these two to rescue you, so you could at least be civil!"

"Civil?" John repeats. "With a guy from Desert Bluffs? Please!"

Kevin shoots him a little glower.

"Where'd you go, anyway?" John says to Kevin, a suspicious look still in his eyes. "I've been waiting in here nearly ten minutes!"

"Uh, no," Kevin replies, "you've been waiting in there nearly ten _days_ , in outside time at least. And from what I hear, you've been in this house rather longer."

John looks confused.

"…Time doesn't exist, remember," Carlos tries, deciding that this is probably the best explanation he's going to be able to come up with without several weeks' research and a lot of string.

"…Yes, that," Cecil adds. "We'll go with that."

"We need to get you out of here," Carlos says to John. "Will you come with us?"

"I can't," John replies. "Not until I've figured out what these photographs mean."

"But you've been in here for months!" Cecil exclaims. "And we need you out in town as soon as possible!"

"Months?" John repeats. "Really? It doesn't feel like months."

"Not to you, it doesn't," Carlos says. "But it is."

"…Look, maybe this would be a lot easier if I just showed you…" Kevin says, suddenly.

They all look at him in surprise. "Showed us?" John asks, tone still suspicious.

"Yes," Kevin replies. "Come on."

John deigns to step out of the room and into the hall, and Kevin leads them down to the front door. "The thing with this house," he says, "is that the doors like to lead to different places, on account of not actually existing. The doors inside can lead to any one of dozens of rooms inside the house. The doors leading out – both the front and the back – can lead to any one of about five external locations; all places where the house doesn't exist. Night Vale is the main one and, more often than not, they'll lead you out into the Desert Creek development, but occasionally… occasionally they go somewhere else. And at least a couple of them are… well, let me show you…"

He approaches the front door, gripping the handle with one hand and pulling it open just enough to peer out… and as he does, Carlos notices that Kevin's other hand is on the hilt of his knife… as if he's genuinely concerned about what might be on the far side of that door.

"…Ah," he murmurs, "right one first time…"

Kevin opens the door wide… and the hallway fills with light; a light that seems to assail Carlos on every front, pushing at the back of his eyes, making his head suddenly dizzy with its weight.

"…What _is_ that?" Cecil exclaims, shielding his own eyes with his hand.

"Just look," Kevin tells him, tone flat and serious and beyond a shadow of a doubt more terrifying than anything Carlos has ever heard.

Beyond the door is a vast, empty desert; empty save for a huge mountain at its very centre. Atop the mountain is a blinking red light, though its intermittent glow is almost completely subsumed by the vaster, brighter light glowing from the horizon, permeating every molecule of reality with its intrusive radiance.

"That's the lighthouse!" John exclaims, seemingly knowing it even though they're way too far off to be able to tell. "Up there, on the mountain. The lighthouse is… a beacon? A warning?"

"That's what lighthouses are," Kevin replies; the only one of the four who seems unperturbed by the all-penetrating glow of the light from beyond. At least… at least until Carlos risks looking sideways at him; risks really _seeing_ the expression in the man's obsidian-black eyes.

He's terrified. Terrified on a level Carlos has never even thought him capable of, and certainly never witnessed anything even remotely close to. But he is.

"What is that light?" Cecil asks, his own voice laced with fear as well.

"That's what the lighthouse is warning against," Kevin replies. "It is a light. A presence. It insists, it conquers, it _devours_." And then his voice drops, taking on an edge that almost makes Carlos reach out and pull him away from the door defensively.

Protectively. Almost.

"…It is a Smiling God. _The_ Smiling God. The Smiling God in which we all must believe."

"It's… brighter than it was before…" Cecil manages.

"I know," Kevin replies. "It's almost ready."

"…Ready?" John says.

"Oh yes," Kevin answers. "Ready. Ready to open the unopening door and cross over… to find a new town to devour…"

He pushes the door shut at that – almost as if he can't stand it any longer – leaving them in sudden dimness by comparison; eyes still aching with the afterglow of what they've just witnessed.

"We need you to help stop it," Cecil says to John. "Please."

John looks rattled. "Say no more," he agrees. "Let's go."

Kevin tries the door again, peers out, then shakes his head and shuts it.

"No good?" Carlos asks.

"No. Forest. I don't like that forest, it talks to me."

He tries the door again… and this time seems satisfied, opening it wider. Beyond… is the Desert Creek housing development. At the end of the front garden, the five other scientists are still close to their van, engaged in running various tests.

They hear the door, though, and look over in surprise as Cecil, Carlos, Kevin and John all come walking out of the house that doesn't exist. As they do, Frederick gives a little whoop of triumph, whilst both Hayley and Vincent shriek in horror and leap inside the van.

Toby and Arlene glance at each other in obvious shock, grip hands, and cautiously walk closer to meet the group coming down from the house.

"…T-that was quick…" Toby manages. "You've only been gone a few moments. I… guessed you must have gotten inside when that guy who was chasing you came around the house again and then ran off."

"What guy?" Kevin asks at once, which makes Toby immediately back away, obviously trying hard not to hide behind Arlene.

"There was a guy," the scientist manages. "He looked… well, he looked just like you," he goes on, gesturing to John. "But he wasn't you."

"Oh, that must have been James Paulson," Kevin replies. "The farmer, you know? He's John's double from over my way. Grows simply _sublime_ oranges."

"He attacked us!" Cecil exclaims. "He's the one who chased us inside in the first place!"

"…I do hope he wasn't looking for me," Kevin says. "That would be a bad sign. Not that it's going to make much of a difference before long…"

He trails off, expression oddly distant, and then gives a bright smile. "Well, this certainly has been fun. I have… places I should be, and no doubt you lot have a great deal of subversive planning to get on with. So… I'll see you at the end…"

And then, with one last, lingering look at Carlos and Cecil, he turns and heads off, walking away down the road towards a car that's parked on the curbside, humming to himself as he goes.

"…That guy was identical to you!" Arlene finally manages, staring at Cecil in shock. "And covered in blood! What happened in there?!"

"Long story," Cecil manages. "We probably shouldn't hang around out in the open."

"Yeah," John agrees. "Plus I think you have some stuff to fill me in on."

"Oh, you have no idea," Carlos replies. He turns to the scientists. "You guys should get out of here and lay low. Seriously. There will probably be yellow helicopters overhead before long."

"All right," Toby agrees. "You… you want us to come with you?"

Carlos feels a sudden stab of concern. Much as this lot – and the rest of the team – drive him insane sometimes, they're basically good people with an amazing depth of knowledge, and he cares for them immensely.

And tomorrow afternoon… they might all end up dead.

"No," he says, trying to stop his voice shaking. "No. Just… just stay somewhere safe. Especially tomorrow. Don't come near that door outside the Dog Park tomorrow."

Toby takes a step forward, putting a cautious hand on Carlos' arm. "Carlos," he says, "tomorrow we fight for Night Vale. We're going to be there. This is our _home_."

Carlos manages a nod. "All right," he says, voice cracking a little. "Just… just be careful?"

He's so proud of them. So, so proud.

And they're right. This _is_ their home.

This is _his_ home.

And tomorrow… tomorrow they save it.

Or die trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got to use the house that doesn't exist! I love that place and I had a lot of fun with it. There's nothing quite like a little impossible architecture.
> 
> And yes, Kevin's demon-summoning room is a shameless homage to _Supernatural_. It's my other half - Davechicken's - fandom of choice at present, so I couldn't resist the opportunity to make her smile...  <3
> 
> Also, for anyone wondering about the scientists' codeword - potassium oxide - oxygen = O, potassium = K, therefore 'OK'. It doesn't work because a) you list the potassium first, and b) due to differing valencies, potassium oxide is actually K2O. But the scientists still think it's funny... ;-)


	12. The Doppler Effect

**The Doppler Effect**

_A waveform appears differently depending on whether it is getting closer or further away, though the wave itself remains unchanged._

***

For all time doesn't exist, Carlos feels suddenly – acutely – aware of it.

The rest of the afternoon seems to pass in a blur. They take John up to Steve Carlsberg's place, and fill him in on everything that's happened in Night Vale since he first disappeared over a year ago.

There's quite a lot to cover. _Quite_ a lot. In the end they have to skip the less relevant parts because there's so much he's missed, and focus on explaining the whole situation with Strexcorp, and the resistance, and the numbers prophecy.

Somehow Cecil still finds time to explain to John in depth about how Carlos is totally his boyfriend now, and how they're totally living together, and it's all so endearing that no one objects. Well. Steve objects, but less than he might once have done, and Carlos suspects the full weight of their situation is having an effect on him.

The others have things to report, too – mostly news of all the support they've been able to gather for tomorrow. For the action they have to take.

"Oh," Steve says, as they're finally wrapping up and Caitlin and Larry start discussing what they might make everyone for dinner, "there's one other thing. I went to see Fey again – don't look at me like that, I was careful – and she said something weird. She said there were words inside her mind that she couldn't get out, and asked me to help. I think… she wants to see the four of us," he adds, looking over at Josie, John and Larry. "And… you know, _you_ ," he finishes, giving Cecil a very begrudging glare.

"We should go down there," Cecil says, flatly.

"Do be careful," Caitlin urges. "We can't afford to let Strexcorp get hold of any of you."

"We can run interference, Mrs C," Tamika promises, from where she's perched on the edge of the table, swinging her legs. "They got one over me last time, but it will _not_ happen again."

It's hard to argue with determination like that.

***

And that's why, a few hours after dark, they arrive once more at WZZZ: Carlos, Cecil, Josie, John, Larry and Steve, taking two cars in case they need to make a quick getaway. Tamika and some of the youth militia follow, although they're out of sight the whole time and Carlos can't even work out how they're able to travel so fast without a car, or a visible helicopter.

But they are. As the group of adults makes its way inside the building, Carlos hears Janice whisper a soft, " _good luck_ ," to all of them from somewhere in the undergrowth.

Merciful Einstein, those kids are scary. Efficient, yes, but scary.

Inside WZZZ, they make their way down into the open central chamber, where the single bank of computer equipment sits; the computer equipment that is, technically, Fey.

 _"…I see you!"_ she exclaims, as they step closer. _"I see you all, walking through the world trailing strings of numbers in your paths… impossible numbers in long, beautiful sequences, slowly but surely unravelling until they reveal the answer at the very core… But the numbers aren't everything… they only show how things are. The key to it all isn't numbers. The key to it all is_ words _. If you haven't said the right words… the last pieces will never fall into place… and the universe will be undone."_

"Oh my," Josie breathes. "You weren't kidding when you said this place was strange. And you must be Fey? It's nice to meet you, young lady."

 _"It's nice to meet you too,"_ Fey answers. _"So nice to meet people. To understand freedom. To help in attaining it, as you helped me."_

"You said you wanted to see us all?" Steve prompts.

 _"Oh!"_ Fey exclaims. _"Oh yes! I can feel the words… the last words and the last numbers, coiled inside me like a tiger waiting to pounce. Help me let them out. North… East… South… West…"_

And the unlikely four step up; the four who have lived so long at the cardinal points of Night Vale. The four who Carlos suspects have been unknowingly protecting it for far longer than they realise even now: Josie Anzhela, Larry Leroy, Steve Carlsberg and John Peters. As one, they each lay a hand on the top of Fey's computer bank… and at once, she starts to speak.

_"One is begun,_  
_Two will come through,_  
_Three are the key,_  
_Four at the door,_  
_Five must not thrive."_

"…Wow, that's _weird_ ," John breathes, as they step back. "That's happened before?"

"Yeah, twice," Cecil tells him. "It's part of how we worked out that the four of you were involved."

"We still don't know who the 'five' are, though," Larry points out. "All the way through…" he pulls a notebook from his pocket, where he's got the previous number prophecies written down, "…look, _'five who are all…' 'none of the five…' 'five must not thrive…'_ They're all somehow different to the rest of the numbers."

It's at this point that – seemingly without thinking – Cecil leans lightly on the edge of the computer bank. And the instant he does… Fey bursts into song.

_"One, two, three, four, five… watch the Smiling God arrive,_  
_Six, seven, eight, nine, ten… see the world undone again._  
_Five look around,_  
_Five look inside,_  
_Five go to sleep,_  
_Five who believe,_  
_Five who are all."_

"… _Oh!_ " Carlos breathes, trying to hide the shudder that runs through him at that. "Oh! How did we not see?! _'Five who are all!'_ I think that must mean the Strexcorp Management Board!"

"…We're seriously going to have to take on the Management Board?" Steve says. "The enforcers are bad enough, but those guys…"

"…Those guys are the head of the beast," Josie cuts in, with an oddly resonant edge to her tone. "We take them out and we might stand a chance."

"Has anyone ever told you how scary you are when you get like this?" Steve asks, in his most respectful tone of voice.

"Once or twice, dear," Josie replies, easily, but with a wistful air now. "Once or twice."

 _"The end is coming!"_ Fey squeaks excitedly. _"The end! The unravelling of all things. Time to run! Time to be free!"_

And she's right, though it terrifies Carlos to think it. The end really is upon them. This time tomorrow… it will all be over.

***

It's the middle of the night.

It's the middle of the night, and Carlos can't sleep.

Eventually, staring into the darkness becomes too much, and he slips out of bed, pacing to the front door and stepping quietly outside. The world beyond is wrapped in the cloak of night; the town up ahead of him glittering under a sky filled with stars.

He drops down onto the top step, staring out at the view.

At Night Vale.

He never thought he'd get to like this place, in the beginning. Thought it would always remind him too much of Desert Bluffs, of the past he'd been running from. Thought he would always be terrified by its archaic laws and bizarre customs; by the people who accepted them unblinkingly, without question.

But now… everything is different. Everything is exactly the same and everything will never be more different. He sees Night Vale for what it really is, out of the corner of his eye: a glowing hub of possibility, of wonder, of acceptance.

All life is here, and all science, and various things not falling into either category, and that's… a lot more appealing than it might once have been.

And it is terrifying, and imperfect, and beautiful.

And he understands it.

"Room for one more?" comes a soft voice behind him.

Cecil. Carlos has been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even hear the door open.

He glances around. "Always," he replies.

Cecil settles at his side, wrapping an arm around him, and Carlos leans gratefully into the contact. "You OK?" the other man asks.

"No," Carlos replies. "And yes. I feel… strange. Like I'm standing on the very edge of something huge and terrifying and wonderful. And I can't stop thinking about tomorrow. About this place. About Night Vale. About you. When I first came here… I had no idea any of this would happen. No plans to look for a relationship. No plans to even stay long-term. But then… then this. All of this. It changed me, Cecil. When I look back at the person I was before I came here… I see someone else."

"Do you regret any of it?" Cecil asks.

"No," Carlos breathes. "Well. Maybe I wish I'd said a few things to you a little sooner. Quite a few things, actually, and quite a lot sooner. But beyond that… this couldn't be more right. And tomorrow… tomorrow it might all come crashing down. It might all be over, not by choice, but by the will of a power we can't hope to understand. And… Cecil, I need you to know… I need you to know that I don't regret it. That there is nowhere else in the world I want to be tomorrow except standing at your side. That no matter what happens… no matter what… I…"

His voice is cracking too much now, and he turns, curling tightly into Cecil's arms. The other man holds onto him, and Carlos can feel how much Cecil is shaking too.

"I know," Cecil replies, not letting go. "I know. I love you so much. So, so much. And whatever happens… that will not change. And I… I would rather face this potential end with you than some safer future without you."

"It might all work out," Carlos says, though he knows his own scepticism is there in his voice. "Tomorrow night… we might be back home, the town free, all our friends safe. It's possible. It's statistically unlikely, but… stranger things have happened in Night Vale."

"Very true," Cecil agrees, finally relaxing the hug but staying close, resting his head on Carlos' shoulder. "I'll keep believing that. I'll keep believing that until the world shows me otherwise."

"Stay with me?" Carlos asks, voice cracking a little again. "I don't think I can sleep. I just… want to sit here and watch my city. _Our_ city."

And, despite it all, there's a smile in Cecil's tone as he replies. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

So there they remain, the scientist and the radio broadcaster, watching a sky alive with stars, and the lights that flit over Night Vale in the distance.

And they understand. Carlos understands.

And he makes a promise to himself.

He's going to save this place.

He's going to save it no matter what.

***

The next day, the atmosphere in town is so tense it feels like it might snap at any moment. People try to go about their mornings, acting as though nothing in particular is going to happen later on… but it is.

It is, and they all know it.

In the centre of town, everyone is still giving the unopening door a wide berth. It sits as it always has, in the large open square beyond the Dog Park, dwarfed by those immense, glittering black walls and yet somehow infinitely more ominous, infinitely more terrifying.

It begins at noon.

The sun has risen as it usually does, beginning its track across the sky as if this were any other day. But at noon, it halts in the sky, dead overhead, hanging impossible and immobile for a full hour.

It's a little while before people start to notice – after all, how often are you aware of the exact position and apparent motion of the sun? – though once they do, it's hard to miss.

But it's nothing compared to what happens when the sun starts to move again.

Carlos knows it's impossible. Completely, utterly impossible. Knows that the apparent motion of the sun is actually the result of the revolution of the Earth. Knows that time and season and procession can change the angle of its path, but not the direction. Not the speed.

But this is Night Vale. Night Vale, where time doesn't exist, and the clocks harbour some terrible secret, and 'impossible' isn't the absolute it ought to be.

The sun starts to move – visibly, at least if you can discount the glare – beginning from its point high overhead and starting to circle around and around and down, not just moving but clearly _coming undone_. For the next two hours, it travels slowly but noticeably through the sky, until the dome of the heavens is drawn with a great, glowing spiral of unfading light right down to the horizon, where the sun finally halts, a fraction of its normal size, due west.

It's impossible. Completely impossible. And yet… there it is.

The sun itself has unravelled.

People are scared. Of course they're scared. This is still weird, even by Night Vale's standards, and it doesn't exactly seem like a good omen given what they're all facing.

But it doesn't stop them.

They start to gather, in the square around the unopening door, beyond the Dog Park. The men and women of Strexcorp come too, gathering as well, and though no one actually says it, everyone can see what's happening.

The two groups are forming opposite each other, like a pair of armies massing for war.

Shortly before 3pm, a long, black limousine pulls up on the far side of the square: a black limousine emblazoned with an orange triangle on each door. Five people step from it, one by one: two women and three men, the last of whom is Derek Hartley himself.

The Strexcorp Management Board. The entire Strexcorp Management Board, with a veritable legion of enforcers and middle-managers at their back.

Opposite them, the people of Night Vale look a little rag-tag in comparison. Rag-tag but determined, and numerous too. A lot of them have turned out; certainly more than Carlos dared hope, though it's a difficult hope all the same, given what might very well _happen_ to all these people who are taking such a risk in the name of their town.

At the head of the Night Valeans, Josie, John, Larry and Steve stand side-by-side. Carlos knows they're scared – even Josie – and, moreover, that they don't actually know how they're supposed to save the town.

Only that they _are_ supposed to.

In the distance, an unseen clock tower – Night Vale's _invisible_ clock tower, which Carlos is still not convinced about – chimes the hour.

And then silence.

 _Silence_.

…Though Carlos is sure the beating of his own heart must sound as thunderous to everyone else as it does to him.

Derek Hartley steps forward.

"Oh my," he says, in that effortlessly cheery tone so common to the denizens of Desert Bluffs. "I must say, it's such a delight to see so many of the people of Night Vale here today. It's a testament to the growing union between our two wonderful towns that all of you have come… and, trust me, you'll be glad you did. This is a day destined to be remembered forever; a day we will all hold in our hearts until they beat no more."

"But not for the reasons you think!"

Cecil's voice cuts the air, a second before he moves, and Carlos' stomach lurches with shock. They'd agreed – they'd _all_ agreed – to stand firm and silent for as long as they could, not tipping their hand until they had to. But even before Cecil speaks, Carlos can feel it; the way _something_ else is wrapping itself around everyone present, coiling through the air the way the sun has uncoiled through the sky.

Scientists don't believe in prophecy. They believe in hard logic, evidence, graphs. Numbers. And string, but they try to keep that one to themselves. The trouble is, they also don't believe in suns that can come unravelled, or houses that don't exist, or invisible clock towers.

Or miniature cities under bowling alleys.

But this is Night Vale. Night Vale; where the things you don't believe in are real.

So maybe… somehow… there's a strange kind of destiny wrapping around them now.

Carlos can only hope that it's feeling merciful.

Cecil has stepped forward from the crowd, staring across the square at the ranks of Strexcorp with defiance writ large across his face. It's beautiful, and it's insane, and it's going to get him killed.

Carlos steps up next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

Derek Hartley's face splits into a smile that makes Carlos' blood go cold as ice.

"Well, well," Hartley says. "So I meet you in person at last… Kevin's double. I must say, of all the doubles I've met since coming to Night Vale, you're the one I was most _excited_ for. I know this is stating the obvious, but you are _just_ like him… apart from the eyes, of course. The people of Desert Bluffs have such _distinctive_ eyes, don't they? And I see you brought your troublemaking scientist, the man _without_ a double. Not from around here, are you?"

"Not originally," Carlos replies, keeping his voice as level as he can. "Nor, it would seem, are the five of you."

Whenever another member of Strexcorp has come to town, the people of Night Vale have always tried to pin down who they are the double of… but it doesn't work with the Management Board. Not one of them has a Night Valean double, and Carlos suspects the reason for this is the same as why _he_ doesn't have a Desert Bluffs double.

Because they're not from around here either.

"Very true," Hartley says, with a dismissive little wave. "But we're here now. As are you." He looks from Carlos to Cecil, head on one side. "Did you have something specific to say to me?"

"Yes," Cecil replies, and Carlos grips his hand, knowing his boyfriend is about to put a lot of their cards on the table. "This has gone on long enough. We, the people of Night Vale, want you out. If you agree to go, we'll let you depart in peace. If not… we'll do what has to be done."

Hartley stares. And stares. And then he laughs, a mirthless and terrible laugh that ends well after it should. "…By the Smiling God, that is _priceless_ ," he exclaims, finally. "So you and your little bunch of locals have come to kick us out? Oh, please tell me you've got torches and pitchforks hidden in that bedraggled crowd of yours? This tiny backwater was practically in the Stone Age before Strexcorp got here. You should be thanking us."

"Thanking you?" Cecil repeats. " _Thanking you?_ You invaded our town, took over our lives, abducted and _murdered_ our citizens. And now you bring us here, to _that_ door. We know what's on the other side of it. We know what you're planning to inflict on us."

Hartley smiles again, but it's a different smile this time: the smile of someone who has just had their big surprise revealed ahead of schedule and isn't wholly pleased about it. "You do, do you?" he asks, but it's not actually a question. Maybe he just wants to say it… or maybe he's realised something. It's hard to tell for sure. "Well, then. Perhaps the good people of Night Vale need a little proof as to why it would be better to accept this than fight it."

He glances back at his own people, and shouts the one thing that could possibly make this moment any worse; a single word – a single _name_ – that makes the bottom drop out of Carlos' world.

" _Kevin!_ "

A figure emerges from the Strexcorp crowd, walking closer with complete ease, dark eyes glittering in the spiral of unravelled light from above.

"Yes, sir?" Kevin says, looking at Hartley, voice and expression both so very calm and level. He glances over at Cecil and Carlos, almost idly, but his eyes meet Carlos' for a second, and…

…oh. _Oh_.

"Kevin, you've been such an asset to Strexcorp, and to me," Hartley says. "Even more so since I asked you to come out to Night Vale. I know it's been a challenging process but I also know you've faced it with absolute professionalism, and a cheerful smile to boot. You're a credit to our media arm and to our non-executive side and, as such, I need you to do something for me, right here and right now. Something _very_ important."

"Name it," Kevin answers, graciously.

Hartley looks at Cecil, and smiles. And _smiles_.

"I want you to kill your double."

Carlos is about to protest, caught up in a wave of anger and horror and shock; about to step in front of Cecil and defend him to the end… but before he can move, Kevin does. He puts a hand on the hilt of his knife – which makes Hartley smile – then takes a step towards Cecil – which makes Carlos' breath catch – and then…

Then he turns, weapon undrawn, standing in front of Cecil and Carlos and staring Derek Hartley down.

"No," he says, very pleasantly.

Hartley's eyes go darker than the void of space. "No?" he repeats.

" _No_ ," Kevin says again, a little more forcefully. "No one touches my double. No one touches his boyfriend. This has gone on long enough."

To the casual observer, he sounds so calm, so sure, but if you know him really, _really_ well – and, let's face it, Carlos does – there's more to it than that. There's the barest tremor beneath the words, only noticeable to those paying enough attention to find it.

It's fear. Genuine, soul-deep fear. And before Carlos can wonder why, Kevin speaks again.

"This has gone on long enough," he repeats. "Strexcorp used to stand for something wonderful. For light and hope and productivity and everything that made our Desert Bluffs _great_. And we loved that. _I_ loved that. But now… now you're _engulfing_ our neighbours, even though they don't want you to. And that… that's _wrong_."

"Wrong?" Hartley repeats. " _Wrong?_ After the sandstorm, _you_ came to _me_ and suggested precisely this! The fact myself and the rest of the board were already planning it is irrelevant! You stood in my office and flat-out _told me_ that we ought to expand our operations into Night Vale."

"Yes, I did," Kevin concedes. "But my motivations were… disjointed. Certainly not corporate. And I regret them now."

Hartley does not look impressed. "Oh, you do? And you think that makes a blind bit of difference to me? You're just one man. You have always been just one man."

"But I'm not," Kevin replies, the smile coming back to his tone. "I'm not just one man at all. I'm not the only person who misses what Strexcorp _used_ to be."

And there's movement on the Strexcorp side of the square again, as four more figures step from the black-and-orange-clad ranks; three women and one man, who move to stand in front of the people of Night Vale, spread out along the line, turning to face their own… their _old_ side.

"…Five of you?" Hartley says. "I'm supposed to be worried by five of you?"

"You're supposed to be worried when any one of us breaks ranks," Kevin points out. "When any one of us turns _dissident_. I on my own would have been enough to make the point. I just brought the others along because I like them, and because they agreed with me. Also they all have personal soul-binds to some _very_ impressive demonic entities, and I'm looking forward to watching them detach a few enforcer limbs."

There's the barest flicker of concern in Hartley's eyes, just for a fleeting second, and then he laughs. "Oh, I've got to give you points for trying. You are _very_ trying, Kevin. But you really shouldn't have mentioned the demons. You see, those four may have personal soul-binds, but _your_ soul-bind to that over-tall, bat-winged monstrosity from the Fourth Infernal Plane is a Strexcorp employee perk: one _I_ gave you, and one I can overrule in the blink of an eye…" He raises a hand and snaps his fingers, the sound echoing off the surrounding buildings, and the merciless black walls of the Dog Park. "…As, indeed, I just did."

"And as I knew you would," Kevin replies, calmly. "I'm not an idiot, sir. When I decided to do this – and I decided to do this quite a while ago – I knew you'd likely try something so underhand. Which is why _I_ did something _far_ more underhand in advance. I went into the house that doesn't exist – where you'd never be able to detect me – and I summoned Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty myself, using not my soul-bind but the rituals transcribed in the Planar Lexicon. He was quite taken aback at first – and, let me tell you, got a little high-spirited when he realised I'd summoned him the old-fashioned way and that he wasn't bound to obey me – but in the end we worked it out and had a nice little chat. Turns out that Azzie has been taking on private clients ever since he got promoted to adjunct. Imagine that! And, even more amazingly, he doesn't actually hate me quite as much as he usually implies. _So_ , long story short, I broke my Strexcorp soul-bind with him yesterday, and established a _private_ link instead."

Still standing in front of Cecil and Carlos, Kevin holds up his hands, and the smile in his voice is as radiant as the unravelled sun. "So if you're still planning to hurt my double, Mr Hartley, we'll see what _my_ demon has to say about it."

"You wouldn't _dare_ ," Hartley hisses.

"Wouldn't I?" Kevin asks, tone as cheery as if he was discussing the weather.

The air is suddenly heavy, spiked once again with that coppery tang that is so much more than just blood. Off to the side, Carlos can see the other four who broke ranks all taking up different positions as well – a couple holding their hands up and out, one holding both hands forward, and another dropping to their knees, staring skywards – and as they do, that weight in the air increases still further.

"You are _so_ fired," Hartley declares.

"Oh, you can fire me, sir," Kevin tells him. "You can fire me if you live to see four o'clock."

He holds both hands a little higher, just as a sound cuts the air: a sound like a single beat on the most hellish drum imaginable. A circle containing a vivid, burning pentagram blazes into life on the ground nearby, glowing with infernal light; strange indecipherable symbols between each of its points. And all the while, Kevin is chanting in a language Carlos can't even identify, never mind understand, the words sharp and _pointed_ somehow, yet melodious at the same time.

Hartley is clearly doing all he can to look unfazed, and assuredly unimpressed. He folds his arms, head on one side, rolling his eyes.

He's not fooling anyone, though. Carlos knows the man is concerned.

By now, Kevin's palms are glowing, and the words he's chanting are bordering on _ecstatic_. Off to the side, the other four who broke ranks are engaged in similar – if different – rituals of their own, accompanied by swirls of light and bursts of fire and smoke.

No one dares move. Certainly not Carlos, who is holding Cecil's hand tight, unable to take his eyes off Kevin.

Then Kevin shouts out the last three words of the chant, there's a vibrant flash of unholy light… and a figure blazes into existence in the centre of the circle.

It's impossible. Of course it's impossible. _Demon-summoning_ violates more laws of physics than Carlos can count right now. And yet… there it… _he_ … is; the demon Carlos met two and a half years ago, on the viscera-strewn streets of Desert Bluffs.

Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty. Trust Kevin to be _soul-bound_ to a _demon_ called _Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty_.

The demon himself is just as Carlos remembers him; a memory he hasn't been able to shake no matter how hard he tries: eight feet tall, with broad, curled wings, a pair of sweeping horns, and skin drenched in blood. There is something different, though, for now the demon is wearing a heavy metal breastplate carved with a strange, curved emblem, and thick, spiked gauntlets that seem somehow unnecessary considering how many natural spikes he has already. His huge barbed sword is at his side, but he also has a vast longbow slung over his back; a longbow at least six feet from end to end, with a quiver of arrows as thick as spears.

Kevin looks the demon up and down and then folds his arms. "I'm sorry, did you _dress_ for the occasion?" he asks, sounding either unamused or _very_ amused.

Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty gives him an arched look. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this? The _unravelling_ of all things? Of _course_ I dressed for the occasion. Why didn't _you?_ "

Kevin gives a dismissive wave. "I didn't need to. I do fabulous as standard."

Hartley takes a pointed glance at his watch and then looks back up. "I didn't come here to listen to sartorial tips from a demon. Especially not a demon from the _Fourth_ Infernal Plane."

"…were you just being _planist?_ " Azatothoth asks, in the kind of voice that a smart person would never provoke, and would certainly run far away from if ever they _did_ provoke.

"Oh, sue me," Hartley replies, with a flicker of agitation. "But on your own time because you, like your inexplicable little friend here, are _so_ very fired."

"Good," Azatothoth rumbles. "I really can't stand being on Strex's books. The paperwork is _murder_."

"I lack the patience for this," Hartley says, looking irritated by the pun and – with one last glower – he stalks over to the unopening door.

Carlos feels his breath catch. He's clearly not the only one. Suddenly not a soul – not even Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty, or any of the other four demons that have appeared at the front of the line – looks willing to move.

Hartley knocks five times on the rough oaken surface of the door and, seconds later… something knocks four times in reply. The sound draws a renewed smile to Hartley's lips; a smile as wide and as terrible as the maw of Hell.

"Believe in a Smiling God," he declares, slotting a key into the lock – a key that's obviously old, and made of dark metal; the design all too familiar – and turning it. "Believe, Night Vale…"

He yanks on the door…

…and for a fleeting second, Carlos knows this is it. Knows this is the end. Knows, and can feel it, feel _everything_ … words said and unsaid, things done and things left undone; truths embraced and truths denied and truths still hovering in midair, untouched, unaddressed and resonant with untapped possibility. Truths… he's only just beginning to comprehend…

…and the door doesn't open.

Hartley stares at it, and gives it another good yank.

Still nothing.

For a long moment, there is silence, as everyone – Strex employees, Night Valeans and summoned demons alike – stares at the door as if finally processing what it means that it hasn't opened.

Then a shout rolls across them all as, in the centre of the Night Valean crowd, a single figure erupts into the air, having leapt up onto something – though precisely what that something _is_ , Carlos can't see – holding one hand aloft and crying out in a clear, determined voice; a voice born of youth but heavy with something so much older.

Tamika Flynn.

_"'Then shall our names,_  
_Familiar in his mouth as household words,_  
_Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered._  
_This story shall the good man teach his son;_  
_And Crispin Crispian shall never go by,_  
_From this day to the ending of the world,_  
_But we in it shall be remembered:_  
_We few, we happy few, we band of brothers…'_  
_…and sisters, and those not falling into either category!_  
_If we die, Night Vale, let us die of having lived!"_

"…Wow, that girl is well-read…" Cecil mutters, clearly stunned.

And then, perhaps more literally than any of them would like, all hell breaks loose.

The two sides launch at each other, as a wave of civic pride – and, let's face it, maybe a little bloodlust – chases through the Night Valean crowd. Before Carlos knows it, they're in the midst of what can only be described as a _battle_ ; people breaking off into smaller fights left, right and centre. Amidst it all, quite a few pairs of doubles have met up and are grappling too, as if they have very old scores to settle.

All of a sudden, Kevin turns and grabs Cecil's arm, giving them both an urgent look. "Run," he says, and tugs them away from the door just as Derek Hartley draws a long silver blade of his own and tries to come after them. As he does, Kevin glances back at his demon.

"Now would be a good time, Azzie!" he shouts. "If anyone tries to hurt my double, his scientist – or, you know, me – you have my blanket permission to snap them in two!"

Azatothoth shouts something in a language that Carlos can't understand. Perhaps it's the same language Kevin used to summon him, because whatever it is makes the man laugh suddenly.

"Oh, you," Kevin remarks, staring wistfully for a second as Azatothoth cleaves an enforcer squarely in two with his sword and then sheathes it, drawing that wicked-looking longbow.

Carlos is trying very, very hard not to look at anything, but it isn't easy, and he's confident he'll never sleep again… assuming he lives to see tonight, of course.

Luckily, Kevin starts urging the two of them to run once more, and they move further from the door, closer to the Night Valean side of the square. People are still fighting all around them, and on the far side of the square there are chants and shouts in unknown languages, accompanied by bursts of light, as a number of the Strexcorp employees summon demons of their own.

"This is insane!" Cecil calls out. He's still holding onto Carlos, trying to protect him anytime someone comes near.

"You people really have lived terribly quiet lives before now," Kevin remarks. "This isn't exactly my first full-scale battle. It _is_ the first one that ended with me betraying my own side, though, so we're still treading new ground."

"Why _did_ you betray Strex?" Cecil asks, eyes still full of suspicion.

"Why do you think?" Kevin replies. "I… oh, hold that thought…"

A pair of enforcers comes running at them, weapons drawn. Kevin immediately raises his knife, ducking and spinning and flooring the first of the two as if without thinking, stabbing the orange-tied man squarely in the chest before leaping at the second.

"…He's killing people again," Carlos manages.

"Yeah," Cecil replies, with an oddly distracted edge to his tone, albeit one Carlos doesn't have time to process right now. "…But, you know… to save our lives…"

"…I just wanted to do science," Carlos murmurs, slightly out of his mind with fear. "I just wanted to do science quietly and not make a fuss…"

"I know," Cecil tells him. "But hey… welcome to Night Vale! Things don't always turn out the way you…–"

"…I think you mean 'welcome to the Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area', don't you?" comes a voice from behind them; a voice that makes them both turn in horror as another enforcer tries to go for them.

But before he can even take a swing, there's a flash of silver and a blade flies through the air, directly between Cecil and Carlos, catching the enforcer in the chest and flooring him immediately. And it's hard to tell who looks more shocked: the enforcer, or the two of them.

"They mean, _'welcome to Night Vale',_ " Kevin hisses, stalking over to pull his knife out of the enforcer's chest. "Although," he adds, glancing at Cecil, "'the Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area' does have a nice ring to it…"

"No, Kevin," Cecil tells him, flatly.

Kevin shrugs. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

Overhead there's a sudden roar, and three helicopters sweep into view; three yellow helicopters marked with dents and scrapes, their Strexcorp emblems painted over with vibrant purple eyes. The side doors of all three are open, with members of the youth militia standing inside, satchels of rocks over their shoulders, slingshots at the ready.

"For Night Vale!" Tamika Flynn shouts, as the central helicopter drops a rope ladder. She catches hold of it, swinging into the air and then beginning to climb.

 _Arising_.

"Take them out!" shrieks Derek Hartley, from somewhere near the door. "None of this is _productive!_ "

And now, from the Strexcorp side, a whole _swarm_ of yellow helicopters – at least ten of them – swoop into the air, menacing and obviously armed.

And that's when it happens. Maybe it's just a gesture of unity or maybe… maybe that strange sense of destiny coiling around the square has more power than Carlos first thought. As the Strexcorp helicopters start coming towards the three now belonging to the youth militia, Josie, John, Larry and Steve – still standing in a line – all grip hands.

The air goes electric, first hot and then cold, followed by a burst of static that chases through the crowd. It doesn't affect the combatants – of either side – but instead rises up, forming a pale, glittering dome of light over the square, beyond which the unravelled sun still glows.

And beyond which the helicopters now lie.

"Take _them_ out!" Tamika Flynn shrieks, voice laced with triumph, and the three helicopters turn, allowing the young warriors within to start launching rocks at the Strexcorp copters. When the first one starts to spiral downwards, trailing fire, the people below are obviously alarmed… but it hits the dome of light and skitters across the intangible surface, finally sliding to the ground well beyond the combatants.

"It's working!" Carlos hears Larry Leroy whoop with delight. "It's working!"

"Stand firm!" Josie calls out. "Stand firm for Night Vale!"

"…Weird friends you have," Kevin remarks, looking at Carlos.

"Says the man half-drenched in the blood of his own _employers,_ " Carlos points out, as levelly as he can manage through all the flashbacks.

"Oh, shush, I told you it would end up like this," Kevin insists. "Not in so many words, but… hey, life's more fun if you have to work some stuff out for yourself. You like science, you should totally get that."

"Uh… Kevin?" Cecil interrupts.

"Yes, my dear double?"

"Don't call me that. Also, I think your demon wants you."

Carlos processes it too, now; the shout in that unearthly voice, ringing across the crowd. Kevin turns at once, spotting the trio of enforcers that Azatothoth is clearly trying to warn him about, seconds before one of them nigh-on _explodes_ as he's caught from behind by one of those spear-like arrows.

"…Oh, I'm not enjoying this," Cecil manages.

"Really?" Kevin replies. "I am!"

And he launches at the remaining two enforcers, bowling one of them to the ground with a very nasty crack and…

…don't look, don't look, don't look…

When Carlos finally _does_ look, both of the other enforcers are down and Kevin is grinning over at him and Cecil, eyes alight with a strange kind of pleasure.

It's terrifying. Horrifying. But it's also…

…don't _think_ it!

"Oh, relax, you two," Kevin says, seeing the pair of looks he's getting. "Honestly, anyone would think you'd never even…–"

But he doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence because, at that moment, a figure grabs his shoulder; a figure streaked with far more blood than his wayward employee: Derek Hartley.

Derek Hartley, eyes lit with malice, blade in hand.

In a second that seems to both take an eternity and happen all at once, Hartley yanks Kevin round so they're facing each other. So the look in his eyes is impossible to miss.

And then, blade flashing, he stabs Kevin in the side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tamika's rallying cry is of course an edited snippet from the famous St Crispin's Day Speech from Shakespeare's _Henry V_ , mixed with part of the line from Willa Cather's _Death Comes For The Archbishop_ that's quoted in canon.
> 
> Also, for anyone who finds it amusing as me, I picked the name 'Hartley' for the leader of Strexcorp because - according to the internet - it means 'deer meadow' and that made me smile... ;-)


	13. Chirality

**Chirality**

_Chirality is the state whereby an object is not identical to its mirror image, despite them being the same._

***

All Carlos hears is the scream, though it's a moment before he processes the fact that the scream is his own; a scream that seems to come from the very depths of his soul.

He doesn't think. Doesn't stop to analyse the moment, or the emotions or the _risks_. He just runs; aware that Cecil is running beside him but not able to process what _that_ means either, running until he's close to where Kevin has fallen.

Derek Hartley is still standing over him, smiling and smiling, looking as though he suddenly thinks all of this was worthwhile.

 _"I will **end** you!"_ howls Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty, voice laden with a rage so intense that it makes several other enforcers – who have been closing in – immediately back off and decide they'd rather fight _other_ people instead. Derek Hartley stands his ground, staring the demon down even as Azatothoth slings his bow over his back and draws his sword again.

" _You?_ " Hartley hisses, voice laden with scorn. "You really think I'm scared of an _adjunct_ from the _Fourth_ Infernal Plane? You're just a _drone_. Not even fit for _junior_ management."

"Maybe so," Azatothoth rumbles. "But we're the ones who hold companies like yours together. Or rip them apart."

The rage in the demon's eyes is impossible to miss. Carlos catches a matching flicker of alarm in Hartley's eyes, and then closes his own.

There's a sound that defies description, accompanied by a sudden intake of breath that Carlos is strangely certain won't be followed by another.

"…Masters of us all…" Cecil breathes, voice shaking.

When Carlos manages to look again… Derek Hartley is dead. It's probably best to leave it at that. What's left of him is slumped a good distance off, where Azatothoth is now staring in utter contempt.

Carlos doesn't think anymore. He crosses the remaining space between himself and Kevin, dropping down at the stricken man's side.

"Oh no, no, no…" he hears himself muttering. He tries to clap a hand over the wound on Kevin's side, but Kevin has already done that and is holding on tight. Carlos presses his own hand on top, feeling hot blood spill between both their fingers.

"…Oh _wow_ , that hurts…" Kevin gasps. He's gone pale, eyes a little unfocused. "Could you maybe… you know..?"

"Don't you dare ask me for an aspirin again," Carlos replies, feeling somewhat delirious himself, as Cecil drops down on Kevin's other side looking…

…horrified? Wait, what?

"Whyever not?" Kevin murmurs. "'s good for pain."

"Kevin, acetylsalicylic acid is also a blood thinner."

"Acetyl… what?"

"Acetylsalicylic acid. Aspirin."

"…Oh. You're _very_ smart."

"And you're very wounded!"

Carlos knows he sounds a little hysterical, but he can't tone it down. He can't.

"You should run," Kevin gasps, looking more and more pained with every second. "Both of you. I… just hope I bought you enough time."

"You did," Cecil replies, and the tone of his voice is so intense and certain that Carlos looks up, knowing the anguish writ large across his face will give everything away.

But Cecil doesn't even blink. He looks between the two of them and then up at the battle raging all around, and something new comes to his eyes: a determination that transcends whatever fear he must also be feeling.

A determination pouring from the unseen power coiling around the square.

Destiny. _Prophecy_.

"…Leave me," Kevin says, and there's nothing in his voice now but _him_ ; no cheer, no malice, no amusement, no threat. Just a man; a man effectively spilling his own blood onto enemy soil. "It's OK. It's OK. My mother always used to say that my death would be because of a mirror, and I… I'm just glad it was for you…"

"My mother always said the same," Cecil replies, gripping his arm. "And I'm sure both our mothers were very wise. But it won't be today. It will _not_ be today."

And he picks up Kevin's fallen blade, rising to his feet with the weapon in hand, standing between his stricken double and the group of Strex employees – some of whom look to be middle-managers – that is now advancing, having clearly (and literally) caught the scent of blood.

Cecil swings the blade in their direction. It's a brave and defiant gesture, but it's clear he has no real idea what to do with it.

"Stay back!" he declares. "No one touches my double!"

"And what, _you're_ going to stop us?" one of the middle-managers – a fearsome-looking woman – sneers. "You and what army?"

" _This army!_ " comes a shout from close by.

It's Steve Carlsberg, still standing with the other three: Josie, John and Larry; all four of them forming a line and holding hands. They're bloodless, unhurt, and it's only now that Carlos processes that this is because no one can get close to them.

And they've clearly gotten more accustomed to the power coursing through them.

Another electric ripple cuts through the crowd, without disturbing the shield protecting them from the helicopters. Overhead, Carlos hears Tamika Flynn give a renewed cry of triumph as her helicopter swoops past, chasing one of the Strexcorp copters. And then there's a second ripple, a wave of cool light – impossible and yet happening nonetheless – that knocks the group of middle-managers off their feet, sending them flying out into the battle.

"…Thanks!" Cecil calls over to the four, in obvious relief.

"This doesn't mean I like you!" Steve shouts.

But there's relief on his face too.

"This is only going to work for so long," Kevin rasps, grabbing Carlos' shoulder with his free arm. "You seriously need to…–"

And then a new sound cuts the air.

Three knocks.

Three knocks from the far side of the unopening door.

"…Hartley's key…" Kevin gasps.

"What about it? Do we need it?"

"No. No. His key… his _real_ key… you've already got it. I switched it out, days ago. Replaced it with one like mine… one of the less-powerful ones. Yours is the one he thought he had. The only one that can…"

And Kevin looks round at the door.

"I can open it?" Carlos manages.

"With the key I gave you, you can," Kevin replies.

"But… we don't _want_ it open. That… that _light_ …"

"That light… the… the Smiling God… would come through if Hartley opened the door. But those keys… they're smarter than you think."

Carlos stares. "The _keys_ are smart?"

"Yes. If someone _else_ opens that door… they might get something different…"

"Might?"

Kevin gives a little shrug. "Well, we are talking about overruling the _Smiling God_. I can't promise it will work."

"But it might work?"

"Yeah. It might work."

"Good. Because we're still outnumbered and I don't know how much longer our people can hold the Strex lot off."

"So… go," Kevin insists. "Go open that door and find out what _else_ is on the other side…"

Maybe it's the thought of leaving him that makes Carlos finally understand. Maybe it's just that unseen power coiled through the air.

But he does. He does understand.

 _Three are the key_.

"Cecil!" Carlos calls. "We need to get to the unopening door. All three of us!"

"All three of us?" Cecil repeats. "I… Carlos, you're a genius!"

He races over, and between them they somehow manage to pull Kevin to his feet: Cecil taking one of the man's arms over his own shoulders, and Carlos supporting him on his injured side, keeping a hand over the wound. They stagger across the battlefield; barely aware that Azatothoth is knocking people out of their path, barely aware that the still-linked four are closing in, watching them defensively.

Carlos jams a bloodied hand into his pocket and pulls out the key. "This is it," he gasps, his own voice shaking. "This…"

He pushes the key into the lock and turns it.

And pulls on the door handle.

…But there's nothing.

"…That's impossible," Kevin murmurs, almost brokenly. "That's the key, _the_ key, and I was so sure…"

He staggers a little, nearly losing his footing, and both Cecil and Carlos have to half-catch him, tightening their hold to keep him upright and…

…just for a second, their hands meet across Kevin's back, and Carlos feels it again: that shot of heat, rolling through him. The same heat he felt that afternoon in WZZZ, and inside the house that doesn't exist.

"What is it?" Cecil asks, clearly having caught the shock in his boyfriend's eyes.

"You didn't feel that?" Carlos replies, stunned. "That… _heat?_ "

"No," Cecil answers. "I…–"

And now Carlos gets it.

 _Three who are two who are one_.

"Touch me again," he says, not even bothering to think what those words sound like. "So both of you are doing it at the same time."

Cecil doesn't argue. He reaches around Kevin, who is staring at Carlos in bleary-eyed shock, and grips his arm.

And Carlos feels it: a heat that rolls through his whole body, like waves breaking on a sea of lava. For a second he can hardly focus… and then everything sharpens. _Everything_.

He reaches forward, turns the key once again… and pulls open the unopening door.

And there is light. But it isn't the aggressive, all-consuming light of the Smiling God; intrusive and terrible. Oh no. This is a different light, just as bright but warm and welcome, like the glow of a radiant sunrise, spilling into a darkened room and signalling a new day. It courses through the air, spiralling around the linked four standing a little way off, covering the whole battlefield with its aura.

And there's more. Standing in the doorway, glowing as bright as the light pouring around her, is a woman: a young woman with eyes that have seen so much more than her twenty-two years might suggest. A young woman who smiles back at them, not the Strexcorp smile but the Night Vale smile, full of hope and warmth and serenity… and a mystery that will never quite be answered.

"I'm home," whispers Former Intern Dana. " _I'm home_."

Beyond her lies a vast and open desert, but where before it had always been cloaked in the glow of day, now it is wrapped in the glitter of night. At its centre stands a mountain, with a blinking red light atop it, and between the foot of the mountain and where Dana stands are…

Warriors. Hundreds upon hundreds of masked warriors. And, close by, another young woman: a young woman wearing a satchel much like the ones used by the youth militia to carry rocks… except, in this case, it's filled with oranges.

"We made it," breathes Former Intern Maureen.

 _Two of them_.

"We made it," Dana echoes, and then she turns, smiling at the army who have followed her all this way.

And they charge.

Cecil and Carlos somehow manage to get out of the way in time, pulling Kevin with them, as the masked warriors burst out into the world, turning to race at the stunned Strexcorp employees. Maureen follows, starting to pull oranges from her satchel and throw them at the Strex enforcers, and – as each strikes its target – the person in question flickers and vanishes.

Revenge, it seems, is sweet as citrus.

When the vast desert behind her has emptied out, Dana finally steps through. She's radiant – _she_ is the source of the light – and there's still absolute serenity writ large across her timeless face. The young woman turns, closing the door behind her, and it glows vibrant white as if sealing… and then disappears.

And now everyone beyond where the door once was can see her, shining like the warm light of day as she watches her otherworldly army take back her city.

"For Night Vale," she whispers.

Behind Dana, some of that same light is still spiralling around Josie, John, Larry and Steve, lifting them part-way into the air. The light builds in intensity, brighter and brighter, until it bursts outwards, blazing through the shield that has been protecting them from the Strexcorp helicopters – the last of which has just fallen – until it touches the sky. The spiral of sunlight filling the dome of the heavens begins to recede, coiling back into the westward sun, wrapping around and around until, with one last shout of light, the sun is whole again. It hovers where it is for only a matter of seconds, and then sinks beneath the horizon, throwing the town into night.

And there's silence.

Silence.

 _Silence_.

It's over.

It's over… and they've won.

Around the square there are flashes of light as the last of the demons start to disappear; all except Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty, who looks set on staying _right_ where he is, lurking close to his stricken summoner.

Exhausted, Kevin collapses, and now Cecil and Carlos have no choice but to lower him gently to the ground, dropping down beside him. His face is white, and wracked with pain, but there's a strange kind of serenity there too.

On the far side of the square, the masked warriors from beyond the world are rounding up the Strex survivors, whilst the Night Valeans race out onto the battlefield to start rescuing the wounded.

Quite a lot have fallen, on both sides. Carlos can see that. But a great deal more have _not_ fallen, and that's… that's something to cling to. On the edge of the square, he can even see his team of scientists – looking exhausted and alarmed but very much alive – where they've been this whole time, armed with a collection of homemade explosives and what looks suspiciously like Frederick's prototype death ray.

Never mess with a scientist. Especially not _these_ scientists.

And Carlos… Carlos' mind is racing; racing with certainty, the likes of which he hasn't felt since…

…since the bowling alley. Since the Arby's parking lot.

They seem so long ago, now.

Still glowing, Former Intern Dana starts walking towards them. She smiles over at the re-grounded Josie, John, Larry and Steve, giving them a little nod as if they all share a secret now… and maybe they do. Maybe that light was more than just a power beyond all telling. 

Dana walks closer, dropping down onto one knee close to Kevin, staring at him, and at Cecil.

"You made it back," Cecil whispers, and there's joy in his eyes despite everything else. "You made it _home_."

"I did," Dana replies. "It's so good to see you again."

Kevin, meanwhile, is staring up at her in confusion. "…Vanessa?" he whispers.

Dana looks at him again. "No," she answers. "I'm Dana."

"Oh," Kevin breathes. "Well… you look just like her… I think, I… everything is going cold…"

"We have to do something!" Carlos exclaims. "Is any of the Medical Board still alive? We have to get him to a hospital!"

"Many of them are still alive," Dana replies, softly, though how she just _knows_ this is impossible to say. "And they will help the survivors. But they don't need to help Kevin. I can do that…"

"You know who I am?" he murmurs.

"Of course I do," Dana says. "I was the first person from Night Vale to see you. I was hiding there in the booth, the day of the sandstorm. And I was terrified. But I'm not terrified now. Now… I understand…"

She reaches forward, nudging first Carlos' and then Kevin's hand away from the wound on his side. Carlos catches sight of it for a second, which fills him with horror… and then Dana lays her hand over it.

And the light pours out of her, coursing down into the wounded man on the ground. His whole body shakes like he's been hit, a stunned cry slipping his lips… and then the light is gone. The light is gone and Dana is still kneeling there, herself once more.

Kevin gasps, as though drawing breath for the first time. He's still covered in blood, but his side is completely healed. Completely. There isn't a mark left on him.

"…How..?" Carlos exclaims, stunned, as a wave of relief hits him with all the force of eternity. " _How..?!_ "

He doesn't know what else to do. He throws his arms around Dana and hugs her, despite the fact they've never even met before… not on the same plane of existence, at least.

"He needed it more than me," she whispers, blushing a little, as Carlos finally pulls back.

"Please tell me he's not still alive," comes a cold voice from close by.

They turn, to see that the masked warriors have escorted a group of Strexcorp personnel over: two women and one man from the Management Board, as well as Lauren Mallard, who has Daniel at her side, his arm over her shoulder, evidently wounded too.

It's Lauren who's spoken, though why the survivors from the Management Board have deferred to her, Carlos neither knows nor _wants_ to know.

"Help me up," Kevin whispers, and Cecil and Carlos oblige. The man may no longer be dying, but he's still very pale and quite unsteady. They all stand, Dana rising too and remaining nearby, staring over at the group from Strex.

"I'm still alive," Kevin declares, obviously trying to keep his voice as level and calm as possible. "I thought you of all people would be _pleased_ by that, Lauren. We used to get on so well."

"Yes, we did," she replies. "I liked you. I _admired_ you. And then you _betrayed_ Strexcorp, betrayed the Smiling God, for… for _what?_ For this pathetic little backwater?"

"My reasons are my own," Kevin replies. "Not Strexcorp's. Not anymore."

Lauren glowers at him, having evidently wanted him to give voice to the obvious answer.

"It's corporate treason," she hisses. "You, and the other defectors, none of whom seem to have survived. I ought to make it the full set. I should kill you where you – for want of a better word – stand."

"You come near him and you'll have to go through me," Cecil interjects, and only now does Carlos realise that Cecil still has Kevin's knife.

"And me," Carlos adds, as fiercely as he can.

"And _me_ ," Dana declares, folding her arms.

" _And us_ ," say Josie, John, Larry and Steve, in very effective unison.

Lauren glowers all the more. "Fine," she says, flatly. "Fine. We're going back to Desert Bluffs. Strexcorp is withdrawing from Night Vale. You like this little place so much, you can keep it. All this revolutionary nonsense is interfering with important business productivity. And as for _you_ ," she adds, looking at Kevin, "you can consider yourself fired. And exiled. You'll never set foot in Desert Bluffs again. _Never_."

"Fine," Kevin replies, obviously trying to keep his voice level. Obviously trying to keep the sudden _anguish_ out of his tone.

"And he won't need to," Cecil declares. "Because he can stay right here, in Night Vale."

Kevin looks stunned. Lauren looks even more annoyed.

"Well, good luck with that," she hisses.

And the Strex employees turn – still flanked by the masked warriors – and walk away.

"…You really mean it?" Kevin murmurs, still staring at Cecil in shock.

"Yes, I mean it. Now don't do anything weird that makes me change my mind."

Kevin manages a delirious little grin, and then glances over at Azatothoth. "Hey, Azzie," he says. "I'm totally alive!"

"Of course you are," the demon replies. "I'm convinced there's no force in existence capable of sparing me from your incessant summonings."

"Oh, you," Kevin says. "You like me really. Otherwise you wouldn't have let me have a private soul-bind. And you certainly wouldn't have done that delightful thing to Mr Hartley where you…–"

"I shut my eyes for that part, Kevin, I don't want to know," Carlos interrupts, with a shudder.

"Oh, fine," Azatothoth concedes. "And hey, I sort of got to kill my boss. Ex boss. By proxy. Or something. I'm living the dream!"

And, with a grin that reveals far too many pointed teeth, he vanishes in a blaze of infernal light.

"I really do like that guy," Kevin murmurs. "He's so helpful."

"…He's soul-bound to you," Cecil reminds him.

"Yeah," Kevin agrees. "Think I might pass out now."

"Don't you dare," Carlos says.

But he does.

***

Given that the sun has set before 4pm, it's going to be a long evening. In many ways, though, this is a welcome fact. The dark cloak of night wraps over the town, its namesake, cooling the heat of a day in which everything has changed.

Beyond long-missed and familiar walls, so much is happening. Out there, out in a town still coming to terms with its regained freedom, a thousand stories are unfolding.

Out there, a mother and a brother wrap arms around a daughter and a sister who has been lost for so long. They, of course, are different people but she is the same person… except that she is _not_ the same person, because of everything that has happened to her.

Nervous parents stare in pride and concern at a teenage girl bedecked in war paint and still quoting from books usually far beyond one so young.

A conspiracy-theorist – no, _truth-seeker_ – ruffles his stepdaughter's hair and goes back to telling his internet contacts about the massive corporation he's just helped defeat.

A smiling farmer walks through fields of imaginary corn, fingertips trailing through open space that is anything but empty, staring up at a sky lit with stars.

A wise man looks out at a forest that still whispers in the night, wondering how he ever got caught up in events so wild and insane.

An old woman re-erects a sign outside her house that reads "Angels' Residence" and then stands, hands on her hips, waiting.

And, in the spaces in between, the wounded recover, the survivors celebrate, the lost are mourned. Orange emblems are pulled from buildings, to be replaced with a familiar, welcoming purple eye.

Battle-scarred helicopters rest, quiet and still, on the desert sands.

In the silence of Mission Grove Park, beneath an offset bench, the earth begins to move almost… hopefully.

But all of this happens… somewhere else. Somewhere beyond long-missed and familiar walls.

 _Within_ those long-missed and familiar walls… in a dimly lit living room, a scientist is on his knees beside a couch, holding the hand of a man who is still unconscious.

"Any change?" Cecil asks, softly, as he walks back into the room.

Carlos looks round. He's in a better state than he was when they first got home, given that Cecil all but pushed him into the bathroom so he could do something about the blood.

There was quite a lot of it. _Quite_ a lot. The stuff gets _everywhere_. And Carlos has to admit that the shower and the change of clothes are helping with his mindset.

But only so much. Since he re-emerged from the shower, he's been here, kneeling beside the couch where they've laid Kevin. The man is still unconscious, breathing softly, looking oddly serene… which is in stark counterpoint to Carlos, who is trying to repress how frantic he feels.

Ever since Cecil went off to shower, Carlos has been struggling to work out what he can possibly say to his boyfriend when he gets back. They've both been oddly businesslike up 'til now; concentrating on getting home and dealing with the fact that spending an afternoon on a battlefield has a tendency to leave you covered in blood.

But there's a lot they're not saying. There's a whole _world_ of unspoken words hanging between them, and they sting like fresh wounds all of their own.

Carlos doesn't know what to do. He doesn't even know how Cecil has let things go on this long, but he's confident this will have to be the end of it.

And he can't even think about that.

"No," he replies, very softly, looking round at Cecil. "No change. He's still out."

Cecil paces closer, resting a gentle hand on Carlos' shoulder, which makes him jump. It doesn't, however, send that strange spiral of heat running through him anymore. Whatever _that_ was, it seems to have disappeared along with the unopening door.

"He'll be fine," Cecil says. "I think he just needs some time to rest. He did… go through a lot."

"…Worth it in the end, though…" the man on the couch murmurs suddenly, which makes Carlos jump, and stare at him in renewed hope.

Slowly, Kevin blinks his eyes open, looking blearily up at them. "…Hey…" he says.

"Hey yourself," Carlos manages, aware his voice is shaking but feeling too relieved to do anything about it. That same relief also keeps him from noticing the way Cecil grips his shoulder, which is telling in its own right.

"How are you feeling?" Cecil asks.

"…Like I just survived getting fired…" Kevin replies. "I… whoa, my head feels _weird_ … I… wait, where am I?"

"Our place," Carlos replies.

Kevin stares at him. "…You brought me home?"

"Had to take you someplace safe," Cecil points out. "Those strange masked warriors are still helping the Secret Police clear the last of the Strex personnel out of town, and we didn't want your old employers trying anything."

"Ah… good… good thinking," Kevin agrees. "I… thanks for that. You didn't have to…"

"Of course we did," Cecil insists. "You saved our lives. And…"

He trails off, which makes Carlos look up at him in surprise.

"…Carlos, can I speak to you for a moment?" Cecil asks, which makes Carlos jump.

He's confident he knows what's coming next. Confident he knows, and confident he doesn't have a clue how to deal with it.

"Sure," he agrees, voice shaking. "We'll be right back," he says to Kevin, and then lets go of his hand, scrambling to his feet and following Cecil through into the kitchen.

When he gets there… he stands, arms wrapped around himself almost defensively, not knowing what else to do.

"We need to talk," Cecil begins, softly.

"I know," Carlos manages. "Cecil, I… I…"

But he can't get the words out. They're a raging storm inside his head, but he doesn't know how to give them voice.

"You love him," Cecil says.

"I… Cecil, I love _you_ ," Carlos insists, desperately. "I love you with all that I am."

"I know you do," Cecil replies, voice so soft and sure. "And you also love him. One doesn't necessarily rule out the other. They can both be true."

"I… I know," Carlos concedes, "but…"

Cecil takes a step closer, which almost makes Carlos jump back in alarm. The other man puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, tugging him in, and eventually Carlos relents, dropping his arms from where they've been tight around himself, and letting the other man hold him.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so, so sorry. I wish I could just… _decide_. And… and…"

"I… may have another solution," Cecil says, suddenly, and there's a weird little edge to his voice that _does_ make Carlos jump back, staring at him.

Perhaps his subconscious mind understands, before his conscious mind can make sense of it.

"You… you do?" he just about manages to say.

"Yes," Cecil tells him. "I don't know if it would work, though. I'd… need to see what Kevin thinks."

"…You could just ask me," comes a soft voice from the doorway.

They both turn to see Kevin standing there. He still looks dishevelled from the battle – though they got the worst of the blood off whilst he was unconscious, which is something – and a touch hazy-eyed from having just woken, to say nothing of being more than a little in shock after the events of the day. And the truth of the matter is… here and now, the lingering streaks of blood aside, he looks as lost and hopeful and soul-cripplingly _wonderful_ as Cecil did, that night in the Arby's parking lot.

And Carlos' heart just _breaks_. It breaks… and he understands.

And apparently… he isn't the only one.

"What are you going to do now?" Cecil says to Kevin.

"I… don't know," his double admits. "I… all my life I've known, and now… now it's all come crashing down. I don't regret a thing, but… I can't ever go home. I don't even know where I _will_ go."

"Why do you have to go anywhere?" Cecil asks, and only now does Carlos process that the man is slowly advancing on his double. "You don't have to. You could stay here."

"Stay here?" Kevin whispers, and _oh_ but the flicker of hope in his voice nearly breaks Carlos all over again, seconds before his conscious mind finally processes what's going on.

Finally processes that – once again – the seemingly impossible is actually happening.

"Yes," Cecil answers. "Stay here. With _us_."

He reaches out all at once, grabs hold of Kevin, and pulls him in to kiss… and it's like the whole world has inverted, revealing the bright, inconceivable starscape beneath. Carlos can't breathe. Can't think. He is staring, beyond a shadow of a doubt, at the most impossibly beautiful thing in the universe.

 _Two_ of them. How did he not even stop to think that the two of them would look so..?

…OK, no, wait, he may have stopped to think it. Once or twice. Or…

 _Oh_.

The kiss breaks, and there's a long, strange instant where the two borderline-identical men are staring at each other, one in shock and the other in complete understanding, and Carlos is confident that if he even moves he'll cause the whole universe to unravel all over again.

None of them says a word. None of them _needs_ to say a word.

Before Carlos knows it, Cecil has reached over and grabbed hold of him, pulling him between the two of them, facing Kevin. They've stood like this several times before – Cecil behind and Kevin in front – but it's different now. Different… and exactly the same.

Kevin kisses him – kisses him _hard_ – whilst Cecil presses against his back and wraps around him, and it's so mind-breakingly _wonderful_ that Carlos feels like his knees are going to give way. There's hands all over him – more than he can keep up with – every touch electrifying and flooded with heat again… though not a mystical, scientifically-impossible heat.

No. This is a heat – a _need_ – of a much clearer kind.

" _Please_ ," he gasps, well-aware he already sounds wrecked. " _Please_."

" _Anything for you_ ," the other two both whisper, one in each ear, in unison, and Carlos can't for the life of him work out how they're able to do that. It's as though something has just _clicked_ and they understand.

They understand everything.

The two of them stay pressed close, now both kissing Carlos' neck, one on each side, because of course each of them knows full-well that this will drive him gloriously insane. And they're right. His knees actually give way after a moment of such onslaught, but the other two already have hold of him, and don't let him fall.

It's another long moment before they finally pause, and Kevin finally stops to stare at them. "…You really mean it…" he whispers, in what can only be unrestrained joy.

"We really mean it," Cecil replies.

"Merciful _Einstein_ , yes," Carlos manages.

"We… should…" Kevin starts out, and then hesitates, almost as if he's worried he's pushing his luck.

"Bedroom," Cecil says, obviously understanding what Kevin means without him needing to get the words out. "I think you already know where it is."

For once, Kevin has the good grace to blush.

They slowly make their way down the hall, kissing as they go. This is distracting enough with two, but with three of them, it's no small wonder they even _make_ it as far as the bedroom. They clatter through the door, starting to pull each other's clothes off, and before Carlos even knows it the other two have switched places, and now he's got Kevin behind him, holding him, whilst Cecil kisses across his chest.

The strange thing is – even without their very different eyes as a point of reference – Carlos can tell the other two apart without difficulty. If he'd had the opportunity to think about it in advance, he might have expected it to be more challenging… but it isn't. They're borderline identical, and utterly different, and when he's got more time to consider it he realises it's going to be absolutely _fascinating_ , and…

He giggles a little, not aware of how out of his own head he already is. The others pause a second to stare at him.

"What is it?" Cecil asks, softly.

"You two," Carlos murmurs, still grinning to himself. "You're so very… _chiral_."

"…Chiral?" Kevin repeats; and, by the by, Carlos realises he has _got_ to get the man – both men – to come out with scientific terminology more often, because it really is _ridiculously_ hot.

"Yeah," he breathes, happily. "Chiral. Like where you have two molecules of the same compound, but they're mirror images, and you can't ever superimpose one on the other. But they're still the same. You're like that."

The two doubles exchange a look. "He's rambling about science already," Kevin points out.

"I noticed," Cecil replies. "That's usually a good sign."

"A _very_ good sign," Kevin agrees.

There's another little moment where the two of them are having a conversation using just their eyes, and then – before Carlos knows it – they drop him back on the bed, pulling off the last of his clothes. With that done, they start tugging the remaining clothing from each other… and _wow_ , that is hot to watch, especially given that they keep pausing to make out again. Carlos puts his hands behind his head, making it _quite_ clear how much he appreciates the show, and thereby getting more than he bargained for when the other two suddenly drop down either side of him – Kevin on his left and Cecil on his right – grabbing hold of his hands with one each of their own, and pinning him.

" _Yes_ ," he gasps, pushing up – just to feel how firmly he's held – and kissing Kevin, deep and drawn out, whimpering a little as the kiss breaks and Cecil leans in to capture his lips instead, kissing him just as hard.

"You like that?" Cecil asks.

"Like it?" Carlos repeats. "I'm in _heaven_."

"Awwww," Kevin replies, with a rather devious grin. "You're sweet. But there's nothing divine about what we're going to do to you…"

It really is a good job they're lying down already. Even just the looks in the two doubles' eyes would be enough to knock Carlos for six, but those words, that _promise_..?

"You're wicked, you know that?" Cecil says, looking at Kevin.

His double gives a little shrug. "Carlos likes it," he points out, and then a look of renewed delight crosses his face. "And so – it seems – do you."

"How observant…" Cecil murmurs, a similar expression in his own eyes, as he reaches out with his free hand to pull Kevin in, kissing him hard, right over Carlos. And _wow_ , but he really could watch them do that all night.

As the kiss breaks, Cecil's eyes flick over his double; over the palm that's just been gripping his shoulder, and the one that's still holding Carlos. "…Are you left-handed?" he asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

Kevin looks surprised by the question. "Of course I am. You're not?"

As if by way of an answer, Cecil gives a little wave with his right hand.

Carlos laughs again. The other two look at him quizzically.

"Told you," the scientist murmurs. "Chiral. Maybe one day I'll write a research paper about you, only no one will believe it because this place doesn't make any sense…"

"Also you'll have to censor most of it," Cecil points out. "On account of all the sex."

"Speaking of which…" Kevin adds, that wicked look back in his eyes. He and Cecil exchange a glance, and then both push a hand between Carlos' legs – one left and one right – starting to stroke him firmly. At the same time. It's so mind-blowingly incredible that Carlos cries out all at once, arching up into the contact.

"Please," he whispers. " _Please_."

They're still pinning his wrists between them – perhaps they understand things about him that he doesn't understand himself yet – so all Carlos can do is turn to kiss them one at a time, murmuring appreciation and encouragement in between. It feels… beyond incredible. Absolutely beyond incredible. Either of them on their own can reduce him to blissful incoherence, so the two of them together? He doesn't stand a _chance_.

And he _loves_ it.

Kevin slides a little lower, finally letting go of him in order to start kissing across his chest, circling a nipple with the tip of his tongue, whilst Cecil kisses the curve of his neck, over and over until all Carlos can do is close his eyes, completely lost in the ever-building storm of sensation. He can't keep up with it. Isn't _trying_ to keep up with it, not when he can sink in it instead, caught in the onslaught that is everything he ever wanted and everything he didn't know he wanted all at once.

How often do you get that lucky? Not often at all. But maybe, after everything, it's about time he did. About time they _all_ did.

And with every second, they're pulling him closer and closer to the edge; an edge he wants not only to tumble over, but to be full-on _thrown_ over. So he's left in no doubt about this. About any of this.

He's been whispering " _Yes… yes…_ " again and again for at least ten seconds now, but it's a few more before he finally notices. This gets him a pair of matching grins, as the other two pause to look at him.

"Are you close?" Kevin asks, with a deadly little edge to his tone.

" _Yes_ ," Carlos nigh-on whimpers.

Kevin and Cecil exchange a glance, and as they do, Carlos realises that the two of them are a very, very bad influence on each other.

They stop stroking him all at once, letting go, and it's a good thing they both grip hold of his wrists again because Carlos bucks up almost immediately, crying out in desperation.

"Please," he gasps. "Please don't stop. I _need_ you."

"We know," Kevin replies. "But didn't I say there was nothing divine about what we're going to do to you..?"

"But don't worry," Cecil adds. "We'll give you everything you want. Everything you _need_. Relax. You know you can trust us…"

Merciful Einstein, what is this? Good double, bad double?

…Because, if so, they should do it more. A _lot_ more.

Carlos nods rather longer than he needs to. He does trust them. He trusts them above anything. Trusts that he can be with them – with _both_ of them – and it will be all right.

More than all right. _Incredible_. Even if they are so totally going to break him before this is over.

The other two let go of him – after a pair of long, lingering looks – and push up onto their knees, starting to kiss over him and… _wow_ , he really could just watch them all night. It's like staring at some beautifully-recursive, not-quite-mirror. Their hands move across each other, tracing identical planes of skin, and Carlos wonders how long the two of them were thinking about _this_ when they were spending all that time arguing. All that time getting in each other's faces about anything and everything.

But mostly about him. Which is ridiculously hot too.

And there aren't words for how badly he wants them in return. Carlos sits up, curling in close to Cecil and Kevin, kissing wherever he can reach and then – because he can – starting to stroke both of them at the same time.

" _Yes_ ," Kevin whispers, dropping his head back in delight, which is all the invitation Cecil needs to start kissing the side of his neck.

"You like that?" Cecil murmurs.

" _Yes_ ," Kevin manages again, sounding suddenly a little out of his mind.

"You want us?"

" _Oh yes_. Both of you. Very, _very_ badly."

"Good. Because you're with us now. You're _safe_ with us."

Perhaps Cecil understands things about Kevin that even Carlos doesn't. Not yet. Or perhaps… he does, deep down, beyond what words can explain. Perhaps he has all along.

Cecil leans in close, whispering something to Kevin. Carlos can't quite catch what it is, but it makes the man's eyes go _dark_ with delight, and he suspects he'll find out very soon. And he's right. All of a sudden, the other two are a flurry of movement, pushing Carlos back on the bed, and before he knows it Kevin is on top of him, starting to stroke him again… but slowly. _Slowly_. Gloriously, agonisingly slowly.

"Please," Carlos murmurs. " _Please_."

"There aren't _words_ for how _badly_ I want this," Kevin says, and though he's looking at Carlos, the statement is clearly meant for both of them.

" _We know_ ," Cecil replies, pressing in behind him, and… OK, when did the man get hold of the lubricant? Carlos isn't wholly sure, but he's clearly got it now, given that he's in the process of applying it… though not to himself. Kevin arches back against his double, who is now stroking him firmly, and _wow_ , that is hot to watch. Especially given that the two of them are right on top of Carlos, pressed in close, and even more so when Kevin arches all the more, arm stretched up and back to hold on to Cecil, head turned to kiss him.

The man really is very flexible. And utterly shameless, especially in bed.

He drops forward after a long moment, catching himself just before he falls on Carlos, grinning again… and then his eyes go darker than the void of space.

" _Yes_ ," Kevin gasps, and Carlos knows – even though he can't quite see – that Cecil must have just pushed inside his double. The flicker in Cecil's eyes would give that away even if the flicker in Kevin's didn't, and right now both of them look… beyond what words can express.

" _Please_ ," Carlos says, staring up at them both, his own eyes shot full of desperation. "I need you. I _need_ you."

"You have us," Cecil tells him.

"You always did," Kevin adds.

Did he? Oh… maybe he did. Well. That's… insanely gratifying, really.

But he still _needs_ them. Needs them _right now_.

He doesn't have to wait any longer, though, because – with Cecil still pressed in close behind him – Kevin starts slowly sliding into Carlos, and… and…

" _Oh yes_ ," Carlos gasps, almost soundlessly. "Yes… yes…"

There is such a thing as perfection. There is. _And this is it_.

And in the end… here he is, lying on his back with _both_ his lovers on top of him, slowly but surely bringing _all_ of them towards physical and emotional ecstasy.

It's wonderful. There aren't words for how wonderful it is. Not all the words, in all the languages – alive, dead and unpronounceable – combined. Carlos stares up at the two of them, as Cecil grips his hand and holds on tight.

"You feel amazing," Cecil breathes in Kevin's ear, and Carlos can feel in turn just how Kevin reacts to that.

"You're not so bad yourself," his double murmurs in reply. "I never thought you'd…–"

"…You don't have to think about that," Cecil interrupts, but very gently. "You're here now. We all are. That's what counts."

He's right, of course. Carlos knows it too. Knows he ought to be concerned – maybe even alarmed – at how all this is going to work, but… he isn't. Because he knows it _is_. Knows nothing – not even string theory, not even _thermodynamics_ – has ever felt _so_ right.

You don't get certainty like that often in a lifetime. Rarely more than a handful of occasions. But this? This is one of them.

The other certainty is that he's not going to last long like this. Not when they've already taken him right to the brink between them, and not now he's got both of them on top of him, every movement dragging him closer and closer to the bright edge of the universe.

" _Yes_ ," he whispers again, sounding utterly raptured. "Yes. _Please_."

Kevin manages to push a hand between them, starting to stroke Carlos once more, and it feels so incredible that it knocks the air from his lungs.

"…Do one thing for me?" Kevin asks, sounding like he's right on the brink himself… though still managing to look a tiny bit wicked nonetheless. "For… _both_ of us."

" _Anything_ ," Carlos replies, knowing he'd give them the whole world if it were possible.

"Say our names when you come. _Scream_ them to the rafters. So we _both_ know that you're ours… and that we are _yours_ …"

"And," Cecil adds, his words a hot whisper in Kevin's ear, and clearly meant for him, "that _you_ are _ours_."

That pretty much undoes Kevin on the spot. For a second that surely lasts a glorious infinity inside the other man's head, he seems caught on the cusp of bliss, and then he falls, whole body going suddenly tense as he comes. It means he's the first to cry out, though Carlos can't for the life of him work out what language the man has slipped into.

It doesn't cause any demons to appear, though, and he sounds _very_ happy, so it's probably still a good thing.

It's certainly more than enough – along with everything else – to send Carlos over the edge as well, pleasure and completion suddenly blazing through him, intense and wonderful. And though the world has half-whited out, though the very fabric of reality really does feel as though it's coming unravelled all over again, he still manages to make good on his promise.

" _Kevin!_ " he cries out. " _Cecil!_ "

Then Cecil is coming too, holding on to both of them as he does, tightening his grip as though concerned the universe might very well tilt sideways under the sheer wonder of the moment, and… as though that connection between the three of them is _everything_.

He's right. It is.

And, one by one, they slowly collapse against each other, as the bliss starts to fade and a strange, wonderful exhaustion sets in. It's accompanied by a silence that – for a few moments – none of them dares break. They just lie there, curled in something of a tangle, revelling in the contact and perhaps just a little afraid of what comes next.

"…That… was amazing," Cecil manages, finally.

"Tell me about it," Kevin agrees, a very contented smile crossing his face. "I… I mean, just… _wow_."

"Takes a lot to render _you_ incoherent," Carlos points out, very warmly.

"True," Kevin concedes. "But that? That was a _lot_."

He's not wrong.

They stay as they are for another moment, a tangle of breath and gentle touches and gradually slowing heartbeats, until – finally – Cecil carefully pulls back, moving to lie down beside them. As he does, Kevin also pulls back, letting Carlos roll onto his side where he can curl into Cecil, before curling in as well behind him.

"I feel like I could sleep for an entire day," Kevin murmurs.

"Take as long as you need," Cecil tells him. "You're with us. You're safe."

Kevin curls in closer, arm around Carlos, both of them holding onto him, and Carlos can feel the way the other man is drifting off to sleep. It sounds like a very lovely idea. But before he opts to follow, he looks up at Cecil.

" _Thank you_ ," Carlos whispers, so heartfelt that he can hardly get the words out.

"You don't ever have to thank me," Cecil replies, kissing him on the forehead. "But you're welcome. Now… sleep. _Sleep_. I think we've all earned that."

He's quite correct, of course. He usually is.

And, in little more than moments – safe, held, wanted and finally, utterly _complete_ – Carlos too has drifted off.

Three who are two who are one.

When the universe gets it right… it _sure_ gets it right.

***

When Carlos wakes up, the first thing he's aware of is that he isn't alone.

He _really_ isn't alone. He's lying half-draped across Cecil's chest, with Kevin curled in behind him, an arm wrapped around his waist; both of them warm and wonderful and breathing softly, and for a long moment Carlos just lies perfectly still, letting this moment sink in, letting it become etched into his mind, wanting to remember every detail for the rest of his days.

"Hey, you," Cecil murmurs, kissing him on the forehead.

"Hey…" Carlos replies. "I… oh _wow_ , I think you broke me…"

"That was sort of the idea," Kevin says, tightening the arm around him just a little. "Was it _good_ breaking..?"

"Good?" Carlos repeats, hazily. "It was _amazing_."

It was more amazing than he has the words for. He's lying curled in bed with _both_ of his lovers, and it's more perfect than he can fathom. More perfect even than the moment when you finally understand what valency _really_ means, or why string theory needs all eleven dimensions to make sense.

"…What happens now?" Kevin asks, the slightest touch of hesitancy in his voice.

Cecil reaches out a little more, so as to pull them both in closer. "You stay here with us," he replies. "Though not in bed forever because, as much as it is very lovely, we will have to get up at some point. Plus Carlos can do some _amazing_ things with bacon that you might have experienced before but not in a long time. Breakfast is _serious_ business for scientists."

"So I recall…" Kevin says. "So you do… actually want me to _stay_ stay?"

"Of course we do," Carlos answers.

Kevin holds on a little tighter. "…For real?"

"For _ever_ ," Cecil tells him. "You're a part of me, and you're a part of Carlos too. And… I don't think any of us wants to be incomplete any longer…"

"I don't know what to say," Kevin whispers.

Carlos laughs. "That's a first."

"Oh, shush you," Kevin tells him, kissing the back of his neck.

And the way he curls in even tighter speaks volumes.

"We probably _should_ get up…" Cecil points out.

"Mmmm," Carlos agrees. "And jump in the shower."

Cecil laughs. "I don't think all three of us can go in at once."

There's an odd little pause.

"We could try, though," Kevin suggests.

"Yeah," Carlos agrees, grinning. "For _science_."

***

So they do. They do, and it turns out tessellation is a fine art.

And now it's a little while later. Carlos is making breakfast, whilst Cecil sits at the table, flicking through the news on his phone… and occasionally glancing out the window.

The reason for this is Kevin. The man has wandered out into the front garden and is now standing there, hands in his pockets, staring up at the sun.

"…Is he still doing it?" Carlos asks, stepping away from the stove for a moment to have a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah," Cecil replies. "Do you know why?"

"It's… a Desert Bluffs thing," Carlos says. "They're rather _fond_ of the sun, which shouldn't come as much of a surprise given recent events."

"How can he even stand to stare at it like that?"

"…I don't know. I never did."

Carlos pauses for a second, which makes Cecil look up at him. "What is it?" the other man prompts.

"Can I ask you something?" Carlos says.

"Of course."

"…What made you change your mind about him? And… and not just change your mind but end up… well…"

This inevitably brings up some very graphic memories of last night, and he knows he's blushing at least a little.

Cecil smiles. It's a serious smile, but a genuine one. "It was out on the battlefield, before the fighting. When we were talking to Derek Hartley. The moment Hartley told Kevin to kill me, Kevin… he just had this flicker in his eyes and I _knew_. I knew he'd refuse. And… it was as though everything just _clicked_ in my mind. The way he was around you and the way he was around _me_ , and I just… knew. And then he nearly got himself killed for us, and the thought of it, the sudden fear at realising he might _die_ …"

"I know what you mean," Carlos replies, and it's still so _strange_ , to be able to talk about this. To be able to just _say_ it and not have to worry. "When Hartley stabbed him… it felt like the whole world had stopped, and I realised I hadn't been so scared since… since the afternoon you were grabbed by Strexcorp. I realised… _both_ of you are my world, and that's… that's OK, isn't it?"

"Yes," Cecil tells him. "And that's still strange to me… but it is. It is OK."

"I'm never going to get over how adorable you two are," comes a soft voice from the doorway.

It's Kevin. Carlos isn't sure how long the man has been there, but perhaps it doesn't matter. Judging from the look in his eyes, he's more than happy with however much he's overheard.

"Adorable?" Cecil repeats.

"Yes, adorable," Kevin replies, slipping easily into a chair opposite his double. "I could totally just listen to you all day."

"If anyone is listening to anyone, it will be me listening to the two of you," Carlos says. "Seriously, either of you on your own is mind-blowing, but both of you at once..?"

"Ooh, that sounds like a challenge to me…" Kevin remarks, with a wicked little grin.

"I would have to agree," Cecil says, and oh dear, but he's got a pretty wicked look of his own. "And one that might require quite a lot of repetition. You know… for _science_."

"Oh, of course!" Kevin concurs, trying to pull off what is probably supposed to be a sage-looking nod, albeit mixed with rather too much glee. "I remember how important repetition is for science."

"…If the two of you don't stop it right now, breakfast is going to end up delayed," Carlos interjects. "By quite some margin."

Both doubles fall silent. Carlos gives them a suspicious look and then goes over to the stove again. The second his back is turned, there's rather a lot of giggling behind him.

He facepalms. "Oh, you two should have your own show…"

***

Somehow, breakfast still happens and, as they're finishing it, Cecil's phone buzzes.

"It's a text," he tells them, looking at the screen. "It's from Cat."

"Cat?" Kevin says. "Oh, you mean Caitlin. Your sister."

"Yes," Cecil replies. "You… haven't met, have you?"

Kevin shakes his head. "No. But I… well. I should probably apologise in advance for all the stuff you're going to realise I know about. Those Strexcorp intel dossiers were… detailed." He somehow manages to look a little guilty… but only a little. "What does your sister have to say?"

Cecil gives him a slightly suspicious glance but doesn't comment further. "She's just checking up on me. Says the town is already going back to normal. Apparently Janice went off to school with Tamika this morning."

Exactly how you go from being a teenage revolutionary to needing to do your homework again, Carlos isn't sure. But he figures it's probably for the best.

"Speaking of getting back to normal… what are the two of you going to do?" he asks.

"That's a good question," Cecil replies, a flicker of sadness in his voice. "I'm a bit between jobs at the moment… although maybe I should call into the radio station and see if…–"

Perhaps on cue, he's interrupted by a clank from the front door: the sound of something being posted through the mail slot. Looking intrigued, Cecil gets up and goes to see what it is, returning with a vibrant scarlet envelope and an expression of intense surprise.

"Whoa, what is that?" Kevin asks.

"This… looks like one of the messages from Management," Cecil tells him.

"Management?"

"Yes. Management. The… whatever-they-were who used to run the radio station before Strexcorp bought it out. We never saw them, but they communicated using envelopes like these. I should probably…"

And, with a nervous flicker in his eyes, Cecil opens it, pulling out a sheet of paper inscribed with elaborate cursive lettering, and a second, slightly smaller scarlet envelope. He pauses, reading the letter… and then smiles.

"Is it… good news?" Carlos asks, hopefully.

"Yes," Cecil says, sounding suddenly overjoyed. "Yes, it is good news. Station Management is back, and they… they want _me_ back as well."

Carlos feels a sudden rush of relief. Even given everything else that's been happening, Cecil just hasn't been _right_ since he had to go off-air. "Oh, that _is_ good news," he says.

Kevin smiles as well – Kevin smiling is not exactly unusual – but there's a flicker of sadness in his voice as he speaks. "I'm happy for you," he says. "I guess I should… probably try to work out what I'm going to do…"

"I may have an answer to that," Cecil tells him, with a smile of his own. "Management also said that, if I was happy to… I should give you this." He waves the second scarlet envelope. "And I'm happy to."

He hands it over, which makes Kevin's expression blend to one of surprise. "Oh," he says, staring at the envelope for a moment. "You know what's in it?"

Cecil nods. "I know what's in it."

So Kevin opens the envelope – and, yes, he does so using the knife he's wearing at his back again, and maybe that's something Carlos will have to get used to – pulling out a sheet of paper also inscribed in heavily cursive lettering.

"…Oh!" Kevin exclaims, staring at the paper as if daring it to change its content, or perhaps just not quite believing that it says what it says. "Oh! They've… they've offered me a job. They say… they think there's scope for a joint show and they want us to give it a try. And you… you're… OK with that?"

Cecil nods again. "You and I… let's just say we got off to a bad start. But I think maybe we have a few things in common and given what happened last night… I think it could prove to be _very_ enjoyable…"

Kevin beams at him. "Then I'd be _delighted_."

"Can I come?" Carlos can't help asking. "Just this once. I'll settle for listening to you in future but the first time… I _really_ want to see this."

Which is quite an understatement. The two of them on air at the same time? He's never going to get _any_ work done!

***

Going back to the radio station is beyond strange. The last time they were here was that fateful afternoon when Cecil outright called for an uprising, and he and Carlos had to make a run for it.

The place doesn't seem to have changed much, although it's quite a hub of activity: predominately interns, dashing here and there trying to get everything back to normal. As Cecil and Kevin come in through the door, quite a lot of them turn to look, and it's clear they're relieved and concerned all at once.

Carlos guesses it will take a while for them to get used to having Kevin around still, especially those of them who were here when Strexcorp was in charge.

It's getting close to air time, and – according to an intern – Management wants things back to normal post-haste, so they head on down towards Cecil's studio. They reach the door, and Cecil pushes it open…

…and freezes.

"…Kevin?" he says, voice very carefully flat.

"Yes, Cecil?"

"Why is my broadcast studio covered in blood?"

Kevin somehow manages to look a little guilty. But only a little. "Oh, that?" he says. "That was me. I was just… trying to make the place feel more homey!"

There's a short pause. "Kevin?" Cecil says again.

"Yes?"

"It doesn't feel more homey. No blood in the broadcast studio. And no blood in the house. And… we're going to have to have a little talk about these proclivities of yours because quite frankly they're a bit weird."

Carlos is trying very hard not to laugh, although he's mildly concerned it's hysteria rather than amusement.

"Awww," Kevin pouts. "They're not weird. They're just…"

"…Kevin. They're weird."

"…Oh, fine."

It's at this point that – perhaps mercifully – an intern comes hurrying down the corridor towards them. "Cecil!" the young woman calls. "Cecil, don't… oh. Ooops. You already looked in there, didn't you?"

"I'm afraid so," Cecil replies.

"Ah… sorry about that," the intern says. "We've been trying to sort all the rooms out but we haven't got round them all yet. You might want to use the one at the end of the corridor. It's in rather better shape."

"Thank you," Cecil answers. "We'll do that… ah…"

"…Janelle," the intern tells him, helpfully. "I'm new!"

"What happened to… actually, no, don't tell me…" Cecil mutters, looking like he doesn't quite dare ask.

Still getting a few alarmed looks from Intern Janelle, they head on down to the studio at the end of the corridor, which is entirely free of blood and therefore far more acceptable.

There's going to be a lot more of this, Carlos knows, as the two doubles prepare to go live. It's inevitable, of course. They have so much in common, but they're also amazingly varied, and perhaps that's the great joy about them.

Well, that, and the thing they can do where… no. No. He'll save _that_ thought for tonight.

In the meantime… there is this. There is a studio, in a radio station, in a town, and there are two men sitting on opposite sites of a table, microphones at the ready, entirely identical and completely different at exactly the same time.

Chiral. His chiral lovers. What more can a scientist ask?

Familiar lights flash on… and they're live.

 _"The world is vast and incredible, and full of more mystery, more terror, and more beauty than any of us could ever know,"_ Cecil starts out.

 _"And yet, it's the little things: the little moments, the little similarities, the little differences, that impact on us the most,"_ Kevin completes.

They look at each other and smile, and then speak in unison: familiar words that nevertheless take Carlos' breath away.

_"Welcome to Night Vale."_

**Author's Note:**

> So that whole 'one-chapter-a-day' thing kinda fell down... Shush! Time doesn't exist! In the end, I just decided to post the rest all at once. I'm an all-or-nothing kind of gal... ;-)
> 
> If you've enjoyed this, please tell your friends! I don't have a Tumblr or anywhere that I link my fics - aside from [my Twitter feed](https://twitter.com/ShadowSide_) \- so I'd be eternally grateful if you think this fic is worth a rec elsewhere! <3
> 
> And yes, I do have some plans for a potential sequel. I am, however, going to wait until after the Two-Year Anniversary episode is released, to see where canon goes, before I get started on any serious plotting.
> 
> ...And by 'wait', I mean 'curl into a ball of terror punctuated by occasional squeaking noises...'


End file.
